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THE  SUITABLE  CHILD 


THE 


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CHILD 


DUN 


Illti.vtnv.tecl  \jy 
Hlizabetfx 
3  Ki  p  p  e  i\ 


Flemin^V'H'I^yell 


Copyright,  1909,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


Other  Books 
By  NORMAN  DUNCAN 

Doctor  Luke  of  the  Labrador :  A  Novel. 
The  Cruise  of  the  Shining  Light :  A  Novel. 
Every  Man  for  Himself:  A  Collection  of 

Short  Stories. 

The  Mother  :    A  Short  Novel. 
The  Adventures  of  Billy  Topsail :    A  Story 

for  Boys. 

The   Way  of  the   Sea:    A  Collection  of 

Short  Stories. 
Dr.    Grenfell's    Parish:    The   Deep    Sea 

Fishermen. 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  80  Wabash  Avenue 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London :  2 1  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


To 

my  sister 

Charlotte  Foster  Duncan, 

the  mother  of  the 

best    little   girl 

in     the     world, 

this  story  is  affectionately 

dedicated 


2129801 


STOP  THIEF! 


OT  Labour  is  Life  :  Labour  is  a 
thing  accomplished  in  provision. 
Love  is  Life ;  and  Love  is  di 
versely  concerned.  Whoso  loves 
a  child  loves  not  himself  but 
God ;  whoso  delights  a  child 
labours  with  God  in  His  work 
shop  of  the  world  of  hearts ;  whoso  helps  a  child 
brings  the  Kingdom  of  God ;  whoso  saves  a  child 
from  the  fingers  of  evil  sits  in  the  seat  with  the 
builders  of  cities  and  the  procurers  of  peace.  ^  Nor 
happily  is  this  divine  achievement  beyond  the  aspi 
ration  of  such  as  are  poor,  such  as  are  humble,  such 
as  are  ignorant,  such  as  have  tasted  failure,  such  as 
are  stricken,  such  as  are  acquainted  with  the  utmost 
deprivation.  Into  the  keeping  of  the  humble  is  in 
this  reasonable  way  committed  the  salvation  of  the 
world ;  the  poor  and  the  meek  and  the  broken  in 
heart,  greater  in  multitude  than  the  mighty,  are 
like  the  mighty  in  their  power  and  in  their  wisdom 
and  in  their  many-riches  of  aims  and  means  and 
rewards.  ^[  They  who  being  able  in  any  proper  way 
to  provide  those  pleasures  of  Christmas  which  are 
meet  and  due  according  to  the  established  custom 

[7] 


Stop    Thief! 


but  still  withhold  them  from  children  do  thieve 
jewels  from  the  helpless ;  and  herein  is  a  mystery  : 
that  these  stolen  riches  do  in  no  way  bent-fit  the 
robbers,  but  change  in  their  very  hands  to  the 
weeds  of  selfish  ways,  which  spring  poisonously  and 
enfold  and  constrict.  ^[Tliey  who  go  about  pro 
claiming  against  the  festival  joy — they  who  interpose 
a  specious  wisdom — they  who  would  destroy  the 
fairy-fictions  of  the  Time — they  who  withdraw  into 
themselves — they  who  are  dried  up  and  selfish  and 
self-sufficient  and  niggardly  and  suspicious  and 
narrow-believing — they  who  preach  a  departure 
from  the  customs  of  the  fathers — they  who  discover 
selfishness  in  anxious  generosity — they  who  com 
plain  and  sneer  and  ridicule — they  who  stop  their 
ears  against  laughter  and  lift  sour  faces  to  the 
morning  :  all  such  do  aid  and  abet  the  theft  of  in 
nocent  delight  and  having  spread  corruption  do 
stand  in  peril  of  the  same  punishment.  \  Let  them 
all  beware  lest  they  perish  indeed  !  Age  is  upon 
them — no  tender  hand  of  the  years  to  beautify  and 
gladden  :  but  terrible  age  of  the  spirit  to  wither  and 
to  kill.  Stop  thief ! 

N.  D. 

The  Colonial, 

North  East,  Pennsylvania, 


[8] 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  Little  Lady  in  Black  n 

II.  Tagged  Through     .  .  25 

III.  The  Borrowed  Child  .  42 

IV.  At  Odds  With  God  .  55 

V.  In  Need        .          .  .  71 

VI.  Outwitted      .          .  -77 
711.  The  New  Mother  ,  . 


[9] 


ILLUSTRATIONS* 

Page 

"Listen  !  "  Said  She,  When  They  Re 
appeared    .....  Title 

"  Tagged  Through  to  Winnipeg"       .       26 

"  N-no-nobody    N-never     T-t-to-o-old 

Me!"   ' 45 

"  I  Dorit  Know?  Says  She       .         .       83 

"And  When  Joe  Jacket  Saw  Her  He 

Thanked  God"  89 

*Used  by  arrangement  with  "  Harper's  Magazine." 


[10] 


The  Little  Lady  in  Black 


T  was  Christmas  Eve. 
Thank  God  for  that ! 
Had  it  been  dinner-time 
of  Thanksgiving  Day  with 
nothing  more  promising 
than  a  famished  family 
crew — had  it  been  six  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  of  the  Fourth  of  July — had  it  been  any 
common  day  of  all  the  year — had  it  been  a 
mere  hour  of  the  dreary  passage  from 
place  to  place  aboard  train — then  the  Lady 
in  Black  and  the  Old  Gentleman  With  the 
Twinkling  Eyes  and  the  Negro  Porter  and 
the  Little  Boy  From  the  Day  Coach  and 
the  Big  Farmer  Who  Told  the  Tale  of  the 
Suitable  Child  never  in  the  wide  world 
would  have  fashioned  under  the  Hand  of 
God  the  Little  Romance.  So,  say  I,  thank 
God  it  was  Christmas  Eve  I  It  was  Christ 
mas  weather,  too  ;  and  thank  God  for  that ! 
Men  respond  to  the  ancient  menace  of  the 


The    Suitable    Child 

weather ;  it  takes  the  bite  and  growl  of 
a  white  wind  to  stir  the  heart  to  wistful 
recollection  of  the  needy.  And  there  was 
a  big  white  wind  abroad  that  night — a 
howling,  frosty,  stifling,  mighty  blizzard, 
swirling  down  from  the  Great  Barrens  in 
the  dark.  It  swept  the  track  clean  in  the 
flatlands,  it  shook  the  bridges,  it  packed 
the  cuts  ;  and  it  gripped  and  worried  the 
labouring  Winnipeg  West  Bound  Express 
until  the  five  passengers  in  the  sleeping- 
car  were  fairly  startled  into  an  expansive 
attitude  towards  one  another  for  once. 
And  thank  God  !  it  was  Christmas  Eve. 

The  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twink 
ling  Eyes  and  the  woolly-white  Negro 
Porter  put  their  heads  together  in  Section 
Twelve. 

"  What !  "  ejaculated  the  old  gentle 
man,  presently  ;  "  you  don't  say  so  ! " 

'"Deed  Idol" 

"  In  the  day  coach  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  right  up  in  the  day  coach  o* 
this  here  train  o'  cars." 

[12] 


The  Little  Lady  in  Black 

The  old  gentleman  threw  back  his  head 
and  laughed  like  a  noisy  boy  ;  and  having 
heartily  indulged  his  glee  he  whispered  in 
the  porter's  ear. 

"  I  should  estimate,  sir,"  the  porter  re 
plied,  "  'bout  seven." 

"  No!"  the  old  gentleman  shouted  ;  "you 
don't  mean  it !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  porter,  gravely ; 
"  'bout  seven,  sir,  accordin'  as  I  should  es 
timate." 

The  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  adjusted  his  cravat,  cleared  his  throat, 
frowned,  rubbed  his  hands,  and  smiled,  all 
in  the  way  of  one  suddenly  called  upon  to 
speak  before  an  assemblage.  Then  with 
proper  formality  he  got  to  his  feet  to  ad 
dress  his  fellow  passengers.  "  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,"  he  began — and  the  pretty 
Lady  in  Black  looked  up  from  her  sad  day 
dream,  and  the  Big  Farmer  moved  down 
the  aisle  with  the  most  genial  grin  in  the 
world,  and  the  English  Church  Clergyman 
and  I  cocked  our  ears  in  expectation,  and 
the  old  gentleman,  himself,  smiled  again, 


The    Suitable    Child 

delighting  in  his  mystery — "  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,"  he  repeated,  softly,  "  this  is 
Christmas  Eve.  But,"  he  demanded,  in 
sudden  wrath,  levelling  a  finger  at  each 
of  us  in  turn,  "  what  are  we  doing  ?  "  He 
paused  to  let  the  accusation  take  effect ; 
and  so  very  dramatic  was  he — so  hurt  and 
indignant  and  accusing — that  though  not 
one  of  us  had  hitherto  been  conscious  of 
guilt  we  must  now  cast  down  our  eyes. 
"  You  may  ask,  What  can  we  do  ?  "  he  pro 
ceeded.  "You  may  ask,  What  can  five 
adult  travellers  really  do  on  Christmas  Eve 
aboard  the  Winnipeg  West  Bound  Ex 
press?  We  can  do  much,"  he  maintained. 
"  It  is  not  altogether  impossible  for  a  de 
termined  man  with  a  small  gratuity  con 
cealed  in  the  palm  of  his  right  hand  to  open 
a  trunk  in  the  baggage-car  ;  and  I  venture 
to  say  that  not  one  of  us  but  could  produce 
some  trifles  of  delight  from  that  very  source. 
What  do  we  lack,  then,"  he  asked,  leaning 
forward,  "  to  the  proper  performance  of 
our  duties  as  adults  upon  this  occasion  ?  " 
It  seemed  the  question  must  have  an 
[H] 


The  Little  Lady  in  Black 

answer;  but  not  one  of  us  ventured  a 
word,  and  I  observed  to  my  amazement 
that  the  Lady  in  Black  turned  away  with 
a  quick  and  pained  little  frown. 

"  Eh  ? "  the  old  gentleman  repeated  ; 
"what  do  we  lack?" 

"I  should  say,"  the  Big  Farmer  sug 
gested,  "that  all  we  need  is  a  kid  and 
a  pair  of  stockings." 

"  Exactly,"  the  old  gentleman  agreed, 
with  instant  approval ;  "  those  are  the 
simple  elements :  a  child  and  a  single 
pair  of  long  stockings  without  any  holes 
in  the  toes." 

"Well,"  the  Big  Farmer  drawled,  "you 
can't  produce  a  kid  from  your  silk  hat, 
can  you?" 

"I  can  do  better  than  that,"  the  old 
gentleman  promptly  replied. 

"You  can?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  the  old  gentleman  boasted. 

"Then  get  busy!"  cried  the  farmer, 
jumping  up.  "It's  past  any  kid's  bed 
time." 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  the  old  gentleman  flashed. 
[15] 


The   Suitable   Child 

"  Past  nine  o'clock." 

"That's  all  right,"  the  old  gentleman  re 
torted  ;  "  but  it's  never  past  any  kid's  bed 
time  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  if  you  don't  be 
lieve  it  you  may  ask  the  first  one  you  meet." 

Indeed,  now,  the  Big  Farmer  and  the 
English  Church  Clergyman  and  I  were 
most  agreeably  aroused.  The  Old  Gen 
tleman  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes,  having 
declared  the  freedom  of  all  children  on 
Christmas  Eve,  was  standing  triumphant, 
with  his  shoulders  squared,  and  his  head 
on  one  side,  and  his  hands  deep  in  his 
pockets,  and  his  frock-coat  defiantly  thrown 
wide  ;  and  he  radiated  a  festival  jollity,  too, 
in  the  way  of  all  bachelor  old  gentlemen 
who  in  their  own  simple  delight  pursue 
the  pleasure  of  children.  He  was  tall,  and 
he  was  straight,  and  he  was  slender,  and 
he  had  glowing  cheeks  and  a  crop  of  gray 
hair  and  a  close  gray  pointed  beard  ;  and 
I  fancy — now  remembering  his  exquisite 
manner — that  he  was  of  a  fashionable 
and  well-to-do  world,  but  do  not  really 
know,  at  all.  At  any  rate,  the  Clergyman 
[16] 


The  Little  Lady  in  Black 

chuckled,  beholding  him,  and  the  Big 
Farmer  from  Saskatchewan  fumbled  for 
his  keys,  the  Negro  Porter  grinned,  and  I 
was  in  sympathy  with  them  all ;  but  the 
little  Lady  in  Black,  who  had  covered  her 
pretty  face  in  the  depths  of  Section  Seven, 
exhibited  no  sympathy  whatsoever.  In 
deed,  she  interrupted. 

"  May  I  say  a  word  ?  "  she  timidly  asked. 

I  recall  that  she  was  very  pretty  and 
little  and  seeming-tender — that  she  was 
pretty  with  colour  and  curls  and  bright 
eyes  and  a  gentle  air  and  an  appealing 
delicacy — and  that  she  wore  a  pretty  gown 
\\  ;th  the  air  of  never  having  worn  a  coarse 
one  (to  which,  however,  she  would  have 
imparted  grace) — but  that  she  was  now 
pale  and  woebegone. 

"To  be  sure  ! "  cried  the  old  gentleman, 
with  much  politeness.  "  In  this  emergency, 
a  lady's  suggestion " 

"  I  regret  that  it  is  not  a  favourable  sug 
gestion/'  said  she. 

" Never  mind!"  replied  the  old  gentle 
man. 

[17] 


The   Suitable   Child 

"  I  am  sure,"  she  began,  picking  at  the 
hem  of  a  tiny  handkerchief,  her  eyes  cast 
down,  her  voice  a  little  broken,  "that  I 
have  no  wish  to — to — interfere  with  the 
happiness  of "  and  she  came  help 
lessly  to  an  end. 

"  Out  with  it ! "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  It  is  such  an  extraordinary  thing ! "  she 
wailed. 

"  Out  with  it  1 "  the  old  gentleman  com 
manded. 

"  It  may  seem  so — so — selfish  !  " 

"  Dear  lady  ! "  exclaimed  the  old  gentle 
man. 

The  Lady  in  Black  looked  up  ;  and  she 
began  her  complaint,  speaking  boldly,  her 
voice  hard,  her  delicate  brows  drawn  to  a 
frown,  her  little  hands  clenched  in  her  lap, 
her  lips  puckered  ;  and  she  was  not  at  all 
pretty,  at  the  moment,  I  must  say !  "I 
have  been  visiting  my  sister  in  Toronto, 
for  a  little,"  said  she,  "  and  I  am  now  re 
turning  to  my  home  in  Winnipeg.  I — I — 
I  had  to  go  away — to  go  away  somewhere 
— for  a  little  relief.  It  is  a  queer  thing,  per- 
[18] 


The  Little  Lady  in  Black 

haps,  for  a  woman  to  be  travelling  alone 
on  Christmas  Eve  ;  but  I  chose  Christmas 
Eve — I  chose  it  and  I  waited  patiently  for 
the  time  to  come — because  I  wanted  to  es 
cape — to  escape,  you  see,  just  for  this  one 
first  year,  what  goes  on  everywhere  else  on 
Christmas  Eve.  You  see  that  I  am  in 
black  ?  You  understand,  do  you  not  ? 
So  I  am  selfish  and  bold  enough  to  ask 
you,  Can't  you  do — what  you  are  going 
to  do — somewhere  else?  Can't  you  wait  a 
little  ?  Can't  you  put  it  off  ?  Can't  you 
— won't  you — won't  you  indulge  me  and 
do  it  somewhere  else  ?  I  can't  bear  it — I 
can't — I  just  can't  bear  it  to-night !  " 

The  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twin 
kling  Eyes — which  were  no  longer  twin 
kling  but  all  too  tearful  for  that — went  near 
the  weeping  little  Lady  in  Black  and  leaned 
close  with  much  grace  and  sympathy. 

"  In  the  day  coach,"  said  he,  gently,  "  is 
a  lonely  little  girl,  seven  years  old,  for 
whom " 

"  Boss,"  the  porter  interrupted,  "  it's  a 
boy." 

[19] 


The   Suitable    Child 

"  Pshaw ! "  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman, 
turning  away  in  disgust  and  strutting  to 
his  seat.  "  I  thought  you  said  it  was  a 
girl." 

"  I  didn't  say  which  sect,"  the  porter  re 
torted. 

"  Huh  ! "  snorted  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Well!''1  ejaculated  the  Lady  in  Black 
with  a  toss  of  her  pretty  head,  and  with  a 
saucy  little  flush  of  anger,  too,  I  fear ;  and 
she  sat  stiff  in  her  seat,  her  eyes  dry  and 
blazing.  "  Well!"  she  gasped,  again, 
with  an  angry  stamp.  "  Well  /"  she 
challenged,  for  the  third  time,  surveying 
the  old  gentleman  in  a  royal  rage,  "  will 
you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  what  dif 
ference  it  makes  ?  " 

"  It  makes  no  difference  whatsoever," 
the  old  gentleman  replied,  jumping  up 
again.  "  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  myself." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be  1 "  said  the 
Lady  in  Black. 

"  A  child  is  a  child,  gentlemen,"  the  old 
gentleman  proceeded,  returning  to  the 
speech-making  manner  ;  "and  there  being 

[20] 


The  Little  Lady  in  Black 

nothing  better  at  hand  than  a  boy,  I  pro 
pose  " 

"  I  object  to  your  putting  it  that  way," 
the  lady  broke  in,  with  spirit.  "I  object 
to  it  with  all  my  might.  It  is  unfair  to 
the  child  and  it  is  odiously  offensive  to 
me.  In — deed!  Nothing  better  at  hand 
than  a  boy  1  Well !  Indeed  !  I  see  no 
reason  at  all  why  a  little  boy  should  be 
slighted."  She  had  risen,  now ;  and  her 
graceful  little  person — a  lovely  fashioning 
of  God — was  drawn  stiff  and  straight,  and 
her  head  was  back,  and  the  sweet  colour 
was  in  her  cheeks,  and  she  spoke  with  en 
gaging  fire.  "  It  is  infamous  " — ah  !  but 
she  was  indignant,  indeed — "  it  is  perfectly 
infamous,"  said  she,  "  this  discrimination 
in  favour  of  little  girls.  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  why  men  are  so  foolish  and — and — 
so  cruel."  She  paused,  eyeing  us  each  ac 
cusingly  ;  and  I  fear  that  we  could  not  meet 
the  reproachful  glance.  "  Now,"  she  went 
on,  grimly,  fixing,  if  not  vindictively  trans 
fixing,  the  Old  Gentleman  With  the 
Twinkling  Eyes,  "  7  have  a  suggestion  to 

[21] 


The    Suitable    Child 

make.  I  propose  that  we  instantly  fetch 
the  little  boy  from  the  day  coach.  I  pro 
pose  that  we  make  a  Christmas  for  him 
that  he  will  remember  every  day  of  all  his 
dear  life.  I  propose,"  she  cried,  waving 
her  arms  like  an  ecstatic  stump-speaker, 
"  that  we  give  him  the  best  that  we  have 
in  our  trunks  and  in  our  hearts.  I've 
something  in  my  trunks  to  please  a  boy. 
Perhaps  you've  nothing  but  girls'  things. 
But  /  have  boys}  things — boys'  toys.  I 
keep  them  there.  I  thought  I'd  keep 
them  always — always — and  die  with  them 
— die  with  them  beside  me.  But  I'll  give 
'em  away — I'll  give  'em  away  to  the  poor 
lonely  little  soul  in  the  day  coach.  Whdll 
fetch  that  boy  to  me  ?  " 

Every  man  of  us  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"One  moment!"  shouted  the  Old 
Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes. 

We  halted. 

"  Dear  lady,"  said  he,  his  eyes  twinkling 
and  tearful,  "  /'//  fetch  the  little  boy  from 
the  day  coach,  if  you  will  permit  me.  The 
porter  will  make  up  his  bed  in  the  state- 

[22] 


The  Little  Lady  in  Black 

room.  We  can  hang  the  stockings  in  Sec 
tion  Twelve.  When  the  boy  is  stowed 
away  we  will  all  go  together  to  the  bag 
gage-car  and  take  from  our  trunks  what 
we  can  find  to  please  him.  But  will  you, 
dear  lady,  put  him  to  bed  ? "  The  little 
Lady  in  Black  nodded.  "  And  will  you  tell 
him  a  story — the  story  of  that  Birth  which 
moves  the  world  to  kindness  and  the  love 
of  children  this  night  and  always  ?  "  In 
deed,  yes !  the  little  lady  would  do  it. 
"  And  will  you  hear  his  prayers  ?  "  The 
Lady  in  Black  said  softly  that  she  would. 
"  And  will  you  kiss  him  good-night  ? " 
The  promise  was  passed.  "  Then,  dear 
lady,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  withdraw 
ing  a  curious  glance  from  the  Lady  in 
Black,  as  though  he  had  discovered  her 
mystery,  "  I  beg  of  you  to  accept  my 
apology,  and  to  permit  me  to  say  that  I'm 
glad — glad,  thank  God  1 — that  we  have  a 
lonely  little  boy  in  the  day  coach,  to  whose 
delight  we  may  contribute  from  the  wishes 
that  abide  in  all  our  hearts  for  all  children. 
Will  you  not  forgive  me  ?  " 
[23] 


The    Suitable    Child 

"It  is  not  hard,"  the  Lady  in  Black 
whispered. 

She  put  out  her  little  hand  ;  and  the  Old 
Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes  took 
it  gently,  and  pressed  it  in  the  most  nat 
ural  way  in  the  world,  and  kissed  the  tips 
of  the  fingers,  a  thing  which  the  little  Lady 
in  Black  seemed  not  to  mind  at  all. 

"  Now,"  cried  the  jolly  old  fellow,  "  I'll 
go  fetch  that  youngster  1 " 

And  off  he  went. 


[24] 


II 


Tagged  Through 


HE  train  was  running 
through  a  rocky  wilder 
ness,  hardly  populated,  the 
stations  far  between  ;  and 
the  forests  and  cliffs  and 
great  hills  and  isolated 

houses  were  deep  in  snow 
by  the  wind.  Few  folk 
abroad :  the  little  boy 


mean  board 
and  troubled 
were  travelling 
was  all  alone  in  the  day  coach — a  lonely 
little  figure,  indeed !  but  still  a  courageous 
one,  appealing  to  the  fatherly  heart.  He 
was  sitting  straight  up  and  anxiously  wide 
awake  in  a  double  seat ;  and  in  his  chapped 
little  fist  he  gripped  an  orange  (worn  shiny 
with  handling),  and  roundabout,  on  the 
floor  and  crimson  plush,  peanut  shells,  and 
scraps  of  peel,  and  a  greasy  newspaper, 
and  a  multitude  of  crumbs,  proclaimed  the 
orgie  of  an  exceptional  occasion.  A  sturdy, 


The    Suitable    Child 

black-headed,  dark-eyed  youngster,  clad  in 
the  home-made  way  and  tagged  through 
to  Winnipeg  :  he  was  a  lad  to  be  proud  of, 
I  should  think,  for  his  manliness,  except, 
however,  for  his  scowl,  which  was  enor 
mous  and  terrible.  It  was  a  perpetual, 
deep-engraven  scowl ;  and  it  puckered  his 
forehead,  and  drew  his  brows,  and  am 
bushed  his  great  eyes,  and  puffed  his  lips, 
and  fairly  rumpled  his  hair.  Never  before 
was  a  scowl  so  fixed  and  furiously  ominous. 
One  must  pause — and  stare — and  gasp — 
but  pass  on  smiling  and  in  some  strange 
way  warmly  enlisted. 

Pass  on,  it  seemed,  the  Old  Gentleman 
With  the  Twinkling  Eyes  was  about  to 
do  ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  he  took  advantage 
of  a  lurch  of  the  train  and  precipitated 
himself  sprawling  into  the  forward  seat  of 
the  two  which  the  boy  occupied. 

"  Ouch ! "  he  ejaculated,  having  recov 
ered  himself. 

"  Hurt  —  yourself — very — much  ?  "  the 
boy  solicitously  growled. 

The  voice  was  slow  and  grave  and  still 
[26] 


Tagged   Through 

more  darkly  deep  than  grave,  a  curious 
basso  pro/undo ;  and  there  was  no  mitiga 
tion  of  the  scowl — a  lifting  of  the  brows, 
perhaps,  permitting  some  sympathy  to 
emerge  from  the  dark  eyes,  but  no  other 
change. 

"  Whew"!  "  the  old  gentleman  groaned, 
with  his  mouth  askew.  "  I  say,  would  you 
mind  rubbing  my  elbow  a  bit?" 

It  seemed  not ;  the  boy  rubbed — and 
rubbed — and  rubbed  the  old  gentleman's 
funny-bone — all  as  gravely  and  as  consci 
entiously  as  could  be. 

"  Hurt — you — now?"  he  rumbled. 

"  You  wouldn't  mind  rubbing  it  a  bit 
more,  would  you  ?  " 

"  I'd— jus'— 's— soon." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
presently.  "  It's  very  much  better.  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done 
without  you.  I  say,  where  you  bound  for  ?  " 

"  'Sy-lum." 

"I  see  \  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Or-phun — not — lun-a-tic,"  the  boy 
added,  to  make  quite  sure  that  the  old  gen- 


The    Suitable    Child 


tleman  did  see.  "  I'm — goin' — back — 
again — they — sent — me — back." 

"  Very  poor  taste,  indeed  1 "  the  old  gen 
tleman  declared. 

"  They — wasn't — to — blame,"  said  the 
boy. 

"  No  ?"  the  old  gentleman  inquired. 

"  No — they — wasn't"  the  boy  insisted, 
with  a  fearsome  scowl  and  a  resolute  little 
shake  of  the  head. 

"  What  you  going  backer  f  " 

The  boy  sighed  ;  and  an  aching  sigh  it 
was — long  and  deep-drawn  and  discour 
aged — like  the  sigh  of  a  worn-out  man. 
"  They — wasn't — to — blame,"  he  replied. 

"  Come  ! "  said  the  old  gentleman,  put 
ting  a  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder ;  "tell 
me  all  about,  it." 

"  Wasn't— their—  fault.  " 

"Whose  fault  was  it?"  the  old  gentle 
man  demanded,  with  a  trace  of  impatience. 

"  God  —  sur-prised  —  Miss-us  —  Tomp- 
kins — Smith." 

"  What  1 "  cried  the  old  gentleman. 
"  How  in  the  world  did  He  manage  that?" 
[28] 


Tagged    Through 

"  Ea-sy — en-ough." 

"  Well,  I'd  very  much  like  to  know  how  !  " 

"  Sent  —  her — one — o'  her — own — when 
— she  —  wasn't  — ex-pec-tin' — it — that's — 
all." 

"  Good  Lord  ! "  the  old  gentleman  ex 
ploded. 

"Wasn't — their—  fault,"  the  loyal  little 
soul  repeated. 

Curiously,  the  old  gentleman  could  not 
for  a  moment  utter  a  word  ;  the  ejaculation 
of  Good  Lord  I  seemed  quite  to  have  ex 
hausted  him.  And  his  lip  trembled  a  little 
(I  think) — and  there  were  tears  in  his  faded 
eyes  (I  fear)  which  were  used  to  the  mer 
riest  twinkling — and  it  seemed  he  could  do 
nothing  but  look  upon  the  little  boy  in  pity 
exceeding  expression.  A  foolish  old  gen 
tleman,  of  course  ! — a  sentimental  old  fel 
low,  meddlesome  and  unmanly.  But,  in 
deed,  he  was  deeply  moved,  and  all  too 
suddenly  to  have  command  of  the  emotion. 
Perhaps  he  perceived  beyond  the  pathos  of 
the  situation  confronting  him  a  grown-up 
tragedy — the  tragedy  of  some  woman's 


The   Suitable   Child 

hope  and  despair  and  patient  waiting  and 
bitterly  premature  capitulation  with  the 
Fate  which  had  flouted  her  in  the  Great 
Surprise.  Perhaps  they  were  not  to  blame 
for  disposing  of  the  adopted  child  :  per 
haps  not — an  adopted  child  is  only  an 
adopted  child,  after  all ;  blood  is  thicker 
than  water,  and  the  love  of  other  people's 
offspring,  though  they  walk  alone  and  help 
less  in  an  evil  world,  is  admirable  and  pos 
sible  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  expedient,  as 
everybody  knows.  Of  course,  they  must 
send  him  back,  lest  trouble  come  of  his  re 
maining.  Still,  I  hope  that  the  old  gentle 
man's  tears  sprang  rather  from  sympathy 
with  the  boy  who  had  been  sent  back  be 
cause  Mrs.  Tompkins  Smith  could  not  love 
him  any  more  in  the  face  of  God's  indul 
gent  surprise. 

"  Don't  you  care  !  "  he  burst  out,  at  any 
rate.  "  Don't  you  care  a  bit  /  " 

The  boy  sighed,  and  murmured,  almost 
under  his  breath,  because  it  was  so  great 
a  lie  : 

"  I'd— jus'—  's— soon." 
[30] 


Tagged   Through 

"  Don't  you  care,"  the  old  gentleman  re 
peated.  "  You'll  get  another  mother,  and 
you'll  get  another  father,  too." 

A  wise,  wise  shake  of  the  head  was  the 
reply  to  this. 

"  Yes,  you  will  1 "  the  old  gentleman  in 
sisted. 

The  boy  almost  smiled — so  unsophisti 
cated  in  the  ways  of  adoption  (perhaps) 
did  the  old  gentleman  appear.  "  No — I — 
won't — neith-er,"  he  drawled. 

"  You  will,  I  say  !  "  the  old  gentleman 
scolded. 

"  How — d'you — know  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  was  taken  aback  by 
this  direct  and  anxious  question.  "  Never 
you  mind,"  said  he,  mysteriously.  "  I 
know.  You'll  have  another  mother. before 
you  know  it,  and  you'll  have  another  father, 
and  maybe  you?  II  have  a  brother  just  about  as 
old  as  you  are  !  Eh  ?  how'd  you  like  that  ?  " 

"  I'd— jus'—  's— soon." 

I  observed,  now,  that  all  at  once  he 
looked  the  old  gentleman  over  from  head 
to  foot,  with  his  head  cocked  and  a  crafty, 
[31] 


The    Suitable    Child 


speculative  eye,  as  though — well,  who 
could  tell  what  might  happen  ?  and  would 
it  be  an  advantageous  arrangement  if 
something  really  did  happen  ?  It  was  un 
lovely,  no  doubt ;  and  I  hoped  that  the  old 
gentleman  did  not  perceive  the  meaning  of 
the  glance,  lest,  being  unaware  of  the  ne 
cessities  of  orphans,  he  should  save  it  up 
against  the  child.  I  blamed  the  old  gentle 
man  for  this  encouragement — for  these 
veiled  promises.  But  I  might  be  unjust 
(thought  I).  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  in 
his  mind  to  take  the  little  waif  with  whom 
he  had  so  strangely  fallen  in.  Come ! 
(thought  I)  I  will  not  judge  him  cruel  or 
indiscreet  until  I  know. 

"I'll  bet  you,"  the  old  gentleman  de 
clared,  striking  his  fist  into  his  palm,  "  that 
you'll  have  a  better  mother  than  any 
mother  you  ever  had  before." 

"  No — I— won't— nei-ther." 

"  I  tell  you,  you  will !  " 

They  who   stand   in   line  for  adoption 
seem  early  to  learn  what  is  accounted  ad 
mirable  in  the  world  and  in  what  they  lack. 
[32] 


Tagged   Through 

"I — scowl — too — much,"  the  boy  ex 
plained,  almost  smiling  for  the  second 
time. 

"Scowl?"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  all 
excitement.  "  I  can  fix  that  for  you  right 
now.  Yes,  I  can  ;  and  it  won't  hurt  a  bit. 
Let  me  see,"  said  he,  putting  on  his  glasses, 
and  tipping  up  the  lad's  face,  like  a  doctor 
about  to  look  at  a  tongue.  "  Exactly  !  " 
he  muttered  to  himself.  "  I  thought  so. 
Nothing  easier  in  the  world.  Look  here, 
young  man ! "  gravely,  to  the  boy ;  "do 
you  know  what  you've  got  down  there?" 
— vaguely  indicating  the  astonished  child's 
interior.  "No?  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what 
you've  got.  You've  got  grins — not  smiles, 
mind  you !  but  real,  simon-pure  grins. 
You've  got  thousands  and  millions  and 
trillions  and  oceans  of  grins.  You've  got 
the  finest  assortment  of  grins  down  there 
that  ever  I  saw  in  my  life!  Yes,  you 
have  ;  and  I'll  stake  my  professional  repu 
tation  on  it.  There's  a  grin  of  most  excel 
lent  appearance  and  quality  near  the  left- 
hand  corner  of  your  mouth  at  this  very 
[33] 


The   Suitable   Child 

minute — lying  right  in  the  middle  of  that 
little  dimple.  I  can  see  it  from  here  with 
out  my  glasses.  And  if  I  wanted  to — and 
if  you  wanted  me  to — I  could  pull  it  out. 
It  wouldn't  hurt  a  bit,  either.  What's  the 
matter  with  you,  anyhow  ?  "  he  demanded, 
fiercely.  "Eh?  /'//  tell  you  what's  the 
matter  with  you :  your  grins  are  stuck ! 
All  you  need  is  to  have  three  or  four  ex 
tracted  ;  and  then  they'll  come  easier,  and 
after  that  you  won't  scowl  so  much,  and 
you'll  be  all  right." 

At  this  point  the  little  grin  which  the  old 
gentleman  had  discovered  in  the  dimple 
nearly  emerged  of  its  own  accord. 

"  Ah,  ha ! "  the  old  gentleman  cried. 
"  One  of  'em's  loose  already  ! " 

There  was  a  smile  growing  large  in  the 
boy's  eyes. 

"  By  Jove ! "  the  old  gentleman  declared. 
"  I'll  pull  that  grin  out.  Yes,  I  will— I'll 
pull  it  out." 

The  boy's  lips  were  twitching  with 
amusement. 

"Eh?    What  d'ye  say?" 
[34] 


Tagg e d   Th  r o ug h 


"  I'd— jus'— 's— soon." 

Instantly  the  old  gentleman  seized  the 
boy's  head  in  the  manner  of  a  dentist 
about  to  pull  a  tooth  ;  and  like  lightning 
he  made  believe  to  insert  a  horrible  instru 
ment  in  the  dimple  and  to  grip  the  grin ; 
and  he  pulled  and  he  hauled  and  he  twisted, 
and  he  gasped  and  he  grunted,  and  he 
puffed  and  he  ejaculated,  and  such  was  his 
enthusiasm,  and  so  heartily  did  he  exert 
himself,  that  he  lost  his  glasses  and  turned 
red  in  the  face.  Presently,  with  a  satisfied 
ejaculation  of  "  Ha  1  she's  coming !  "  he 
sat  back  a  bit,  still  grasping  the  imaginary 
forceps,  and  continued  to  pull,  now  with 
both  hands  and  the  grimmest  determina 
tion.  "  She's  coming  1 "  he  shouted,  again ; 
"  hold  still !  don't  move  for  your  life  1 "  It 
was  a  desperate  effort :  the  old  gentle 
man's  mouth  was  all  screwed,  and  his 
cropped  gray  beard  bristled,  and  his  eyes 
blazed ;  but  he  clung  like  a  sturdy  work 
man  to  the  little  boy's  grin,  and  hauled 
and  twisted  with  increasing  vigour,  mean 
while  drawing  inch  after  inch  of  the  grin 
[35] 


The    Suitable    Child 

from  the  dimple.  And  all  at  once  the  mus 
cles  of  the  boy's  scowling  countenance  gave 
way — and  he  grinned  most  expansively — 
and  he  could  not  check  the  grin,  at  all — and 
it  spread  and  swelled  and  grew  gigantic — 
and  at  last  it  fairly  exploded  in  a  delicious 
chuckle. 

The  old  gentleman  fell  back  against  the 
seat.  "  There  !  "  he  sighed,  exhausted,  but 
much  delighted.  "  I  knew  I  could  do  it  1 " 

"  It— didn't— hurt— none." 

"Of  course,  it  didn't  hurt!"  the  old 
gentleman  exclaimed ;  "  and  it'll  do  you 
lots  of  good.  In  exactly  three  minutes," 
he  proceeded,  with  a  peep  at  his  watch, 
"  I'll  pull  another  ;  and  I'll  pull  six,  in  all, 
and  when  I've  pulled  six,  and  loosened  'em 
all  up,  they'll  tumble  out  of  that  dimple  so 
fast  that  you  won't  be  able  to  stop  'em. 
Why  ! "  he  cried,  enthusiastically ;  "there'll 
be  neither  time  nor  room  for  a  scowl  to 
get  out." 

A  little  grin  popped  out  of  the  dimple. 

"Look  at  that!"  exclaimed  the  admir 
ing  old  gentleman. 

[36] 


Tagged   Through. 

Another  little  grin  popped  out. 

"  I  tell  you,"  the  old  gentleman  earnestly 
declared,  "it  won't  be  long  before  you'll 
have  to  have  your  scowls  pulled  !  " 

I  looked  for  another  little  grin  to  come. 
None  emerged.  The  boy's  face  fell  again 
into  the  settled  scowl  and  melancholy ;  and 
he  sighed,  abruptly,  and  turned  away,  his 
interest  in  the  Old  Gentleman  With  the 
Twinkling  Eyes  and  in  the  old  gentle 
man's  jolly  make-believe  apparently  gone 
out.  Nor  could  the  old  gentleman  rouse 
him :  neither  with  laughter  nor  tomfoolery 
nor  make-believe  of  any  sort,  nor  even  by 
means  of  the  extraordinary  expedient  of 
grabbing  an  American  silver  dollar  from 
the  vacant  air  and  dropping  it  in  the  boy's 
jacket  pocket,  and  of  grabbing  another 
from  nothing  and  nowhere  for  the  second 
jacket  pocket,  and  a  third  for  the  third, 
and  of  filling  the  first  and  second  trousers 
pockets  and  an  obscure  hip  pocket  from 
the  same  mysterious  source  and  in  the 
same  mysterious  way.  It  was  all  to  no 
purpose ;  the  little  boy  whom  the  gift  of 
[37] 


The   Suitable    Child 

God  had  supplanted  gave  small  attention 
to  these  antics,  but  looked  out  of  the  win 
dow,  sad  and  scowling,  in  an  abstracted 
effort  to  descry  the  forest  and  rocky  land 
in  the  wild  night.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
he  remembered  the  leave-taking  and  was 
oppressed  by  the  vision  of  a  discredited 
return ;  and  I  fancied  that  in  his  childish 
way  he  knew  that  he  walked  alone  in  the 
world,  notwithstanding  the  accident  of  the 
old  gentleman's  genial  friendship,  and  that 
he  was  afraid,  and  that  he  was  lonely,  and 
that  he  wished,  most  woefully,  for  some 
secure  and  natural  attachment  to  his  elders, 
such  as  other  children  were  safe  and  happy 
in  having. 

The  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  all  at  once  lifted  the  boy  and  sat  him 
on  his  knee. 

"  What's  the  matter,  boy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothin'." 

The  old  gentleman's  voice  was  unaf 
fected  now ;  and  his  way  was  simple  and 
genuinely  affectionate,  and  his  fine  kind 
face  was  infinitely  melancholy  with  sym- 
[38] 


Tagged   Through 

pathetic  understanding  of  the  little  woe  he 
held  in  his  arms.  They  had  forgotten,  it 
seemed,  the  presence  of  an  eavesdropping 
onlooker. 

"What's  the  matter?"  the  old  gentle 
man  repeated. 

"  NothinV 

The  old  gentleman  adjusted  the  lad's 
little  body  more  closely  to  his  own,  in  the 
intimate  way  of  such  as  are  used  to  loving 
children ;  and  like  the  knowing  fathers  of 
children,  who  deal  with  them  at  bedtime, 
he  put  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head.  The 
scowling,  woebegone  face,  the  cheeks  now 
wet,  fell  against  the  frock-coat  most  nat 
urally — as  though,  indeed  (and  by  this  I 
was  amazed),  the  boy  had  from  the  very 
beginning  been  used  to  this  particular 
protection  and  affection.  Amazed?  In 
deed,  yes !  I  was  amazed  and  informed. 
What  manner  of  man  (thinks  I)  is  this  ?  and 
what  great  secret  of  the  hearts  of  children 
does  he  know?  and  in  what  manner  and 
to  what  purpose  has  he  practiced  the 
divine  dissimulation  of  fatherly  love  ?  Of 
[391 


The    Suitable    Child 

course,  I  was  informed,  never  having  seen 
the  like  of  it  before ;  and  herein,  too,  not 
only  was  enlightenment,  but  invitation  to 
do  likewise.  They  had  quite  forgotten  the 
onlooker :  the  boy's  head  was  lying  against 
the  old  gentleman's  frock-coat,  and  the  old 
gentleman,  for  the  moment  at  a  loss,  but 
evidently  with  his  mind  furiously  at  work, 
was  softly  whistling  some  sentimental  bal 
lad,  quite  out  of  tune. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  whispered, 
presently. 

"  Nothin'." 

"  Better  tell  me,  boy." 

The  boy  looked  up — sat  back  and  put 
his  hands  on  the  old  gentleman's  shoulders 
and  looked  him  in  the  eye  like  a  man — 
acting,  now,  in  anxious  inquisition. 

"  Do  you  want  one?  "  he  demanded. 

"Want  what?" 

"  Want — a — norphan  f  " 

The  old  gentleman  was  taken  unaware  ; 
but  he  cleverly  rallied,  and  dodged  the 
direct  question,  almost  before  it  was  asked, 
so  that  there  was  no  denial  and  no  offense. 


Tagged   Through 

"  Look  here  ! "  said  he  ;  "  are  you  for 
rent?" 

The  boy  did  not  comprehend. 

"  If  you  are,"  the  old  gentleman  de 
clared,  "  I'll  borrow  you  for  the  night. 
What  d'ye  say  to  that?" 

"  I'd— jus'— 's— soon." 

"  Good ! "  cried  the  old  gentleman. 
"But  first,"  said  he,  "I'll  pull  out  the 
second  grin." 

The  grin  was  triumphantly  extracted; 
and  off  we  went  to  the  sleeping-car,  where 
the  Big  Farmer  and  the  English  Church 
Clergyman  and  the  Lady  in  Black  were 
waiting.  And  I  determined  (I  recall)  that 
if  the  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  failed  the  child  he  held  by  the  hand 
— I  determined,  while  we  staggered 
through  the  corridors  of  the  train — I  de 
termined  that  I  myself 

Why  not  ? 


Ill 


The  Borrowed  Child 


HE  Lady  in  Black  took  the 
boy  from  the  Old  Gentle 
man  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  with  an  air  of  au 
thority  he  could  not  defy. 
He  yielded,  somewhat  of 
fended,  and  vastly  amazed  ;  and  the  child 
seemed  willing,  I  recall,  to  pass  from  his  care, 
however  engaging  it  had  been,  into  the  softer 
keeping  of  a  woman.  The  stateroom  bed 
was  made  up,  and  the  door  was  wide  open ; 
and  within  the  cozy  little  place  there  was 
the  quiet  glow  of  yellow  light  and  the 
softest  and  whitest  invitation  to  turn  in 
and  go  to  sleep.  No  sooner  had  the  little 
boy  clapped  eyes  on  the  pillows  and  sheets 
than  he  began  to  blink  in  an  owlish  way, 
and  to  yawn  and  rub  his  eyes.  But  the 
selfish  Lady  in  Black  would  not  let  him 
go  until  she  had  satisfied  the  hunger  of 
her  arms ;  she  held  him  close,  and 
[42] 


The   Borrowed  Child 

smoothed  his  hair,  and  crooned  in  his  ear, 
and  stole  little  kisses  from  the  back  of  his 
neck,  as  mothers  do  when  their  very  own 
little  children  transport  them.  The  Big 
Farmer  fretted  and  growled  that  it  was 
past  nine  o'clock — that  it  was  long  past 
nine  o'clock — and  that  the  boy  ought  to 
be  stowed  away ;  but  the  Old  Gentleman 
With  the  Twinkling  Eyes  lifted  a  warning 
finger  in  his  direction  and  winked  in  a 
warning  way,  as  if  some  mystery  might  be 
brewing,  which  must  not  on  any  account 
be  interrupted. 

At  last,  however,  reverting  to  his  make- 
believe  of  terrible  manner,  the  old  gentle 
man  shouted : 

"Off  with  'em!" 

The  little  boy  was  by  this  frightened 
into  wide  wakefulness. 

"  Off  with  his  stockings ! "  the  old  gentle 
man  commanded. 

While  the  smiling  little  lady  picked  at 
the  hard  knots  with  her  delicate  fingers  the 
child  stared  at  the  old  gentleman  in  a  way 
most  bewildered. 

[43] 


The    Suitable    Child 

"  Time  to  hang  'em  up,"  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

The  little  boy  puzzled  upon  this  for  a 
moment,  his  head  lying  very  still,  his  leg 
abandoned  to  the  hands  of  the  Lady  in 
Black,  who  still  fumbled  with  the  lace  of 
his  shoe,  which  she  would  not  yield  to  any 
of  us.  I  observed  that  his  dark  eyes 
moved  from  face  to  face  amongst  us,  and 
I  saw  that  dwelling  here  they  brooded, 
and  that  dwelling  there  they  brooded, 
pondering.  Presently,  he  started,  trem 
bled,  sat  up  with  a  jerk ;  and  for  an 
instant  he  was  stock  still,  and  stared  at 
the  old  gentleman,  open-eyed  and  pale  in 
the  presence  of  a  great  revelation.  All  at 
once  he  squirmed  roughly  from  the  lady's 
lap  and  faced  us  with  his  feet  spread  and 
his  hands  clenched  and  every  muscle  of 
his  little  body  quivering. 

Whereupon  he  gasped  : 

"//'j  Christmas  /" 

"  Of  course,  it  is,"  said  the  old  gentle 
man,  heartily. 

The  boy  threw  back  his  head,  and  his 
[44] 


"N-NONOBODY    N-NEVEB     T-T-TO-O-OLD     ME!' 


The   Borrowed   Child 

mouth  fell  wide  open,  and  a  flood  of  tears 
descended  from  Jiis  puckered  eyes,  and  he 
bawled  in  wrath  : 

"  N-no-nobody  n-never  t-t-to-o-old  me  !  " 
There  was  no  laughter  on  our  part,  you 
may  be  sure.  Not  one  of  us  but  under 
stood  the  wrong  that  had  been  done  him — 
the  theft  of  all  the  hours  of  glorified  expec 
tation — so  nearly  the  theft  of  Christmas  joy 
itself — that  sacrilege  1  Not  one  of  us,  I 
am  sure,  but  felt  the  ache  that  hurt  him, 
and  were  in  wrath  like  his.  Not  one  of  us 
— so  strangely  had  we  fallen  in  together — 
but  acknowledged  (nor  had  ever  dreamed 
of  questioning)  the  Divine  Right  of  chil 
dren  to  all  the  delights  of  Christmas. 
Whoso  deprives  them  (thought  I) — but, 
then,  as  everybody  knows,  the  rage  of  a 
gray  bachelor  concerning  this  runs  away 
with  him,  and  he  emerges  red  and  perspir 
ing  from  the  argument,  with  the  indulgent 
laughter  of  parents  to  distress  him  :  I  will 
not  tell  what  I  thought  in  contempt  for  the 
selfish  and  pretentiously  advanced  persons 
who  deprive  helpless  little  children  of  their 
[45] 


The    Suitable    Child 


high  and  divinely  ordained  festival.  The 
Lady  in  Black  exchanged  horrified  glances 
with  the  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twin 
kling  Eyes ;  and  there  was  a  general  ex 
change  of  horrified  glances — the  Big 
Farmer  with  me,  and  the  English  Church 
Clergyman  with  the  Lady  in  Black,  and 
the  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  promiscuously,  and  the  whole  of  us  to 
gether.  Following  the  example  of  the 
Lady  in  Black  we  turned  up  our  noses  and 
sniffed ;  and  had  Mrs.  Tompkins  Smith 
been  there — and  had  the  old  gentleman  and 
I  betrayed  her  as  the  author  of  this  cruel 
perfidy — it  had  surely  gone  hard  with  her. 

"Well,  I  never!"  exclaimed  the  Lady 
in  Black. 

"  Shoot  it ! "  exploded  the  Old  Gentleman 
With  the  Twinkling  Eyes,  being  unable,  in 
the  presence  of  the  lady,  to  utter  his  dis 
gust  with  more  relieving  warmth. 

Well,  of  course,  we  comforted  the  Boy 
From  the  Day  Coach.    A  little  loving  by  the 
Lady  in  Black,  a  little  scolding  by  the  Old 
[46] 


The    Borrowed   Child 

Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes,  a 
little  encouragement  by  the  Big  Farmer 
from  Saskatchewan,  a  little  rash  promising 
by  the  English  Church  Clergyman,  all  pro 
ceeding  simultaneously  with  a  general 
backing  up  of  the  whole  by  the  Story 
Teller,  and  the  thing  was  nearly  accom 
plished.  At  any  rate,  the  pain  of  the  child's 
wound  was  eased,  the  loud  expression  of 
his  grief  mollified ;  but  before  he  was  re 
stored  to  good  humour  and  thoroughgoing 
satisfaction  with  his  situation  the  Old  Gen 
tleman  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes  must  ex 
tract  three  grins  in  rapid  succession,  which 
he  set  about  doing  with  every  evidence  of 
professional  delight,  and  achieved  with  tri 
umphant  success,  each  time  in  the  midst  of 
loud  applause  from  the  company.  Then 
off  came  the  stockings  !  and  the  bare  little 
toes  wriggled  with  joy  ;  and  out  came  the 
hat  pins  !  and  the  chapped  little  fingers 
that  drove  them  through  the  stockings  and 
into  the  cushion  shook  and  blundered  with 
joyous  excitement ;  and  apart  stood  we  all 
to  view  the  effect !  and  we  clapped  our 
[47] 


The   Suitable   Child 

hands  and  cheered  and  exclaimed  and  pre 
dicted  and  hoped,  just  as  all  good  fathers 
and  mothers  and  uncles  and  aunts  and  big 
sisters  and  brothers  and  friends  of  the  fam 
ily  do  on  Christmas  Eve,  everywhere  in 
Christian  lands,  and  will  continue  to  do  un 
til  pure  Christianity  has  vanished  from  the 
hearts  of  men  and  children  are  no  more. 

The  little  Lady  in  Black  said,  by  and  by, 
softly — and  with  shining  eyes  and  a  rosy 
flush  and  in  the  most  tender  of  loving 
mother-voices — indeed,  she  was  an  ador 
able  little  lady  ! — the  little  Lady  in  Black 
admonished  the  child ^in  the  magical  way 
that  children  do  not  misunderstand  that  it 
was  time  for  all  good  little  boys  to  be  in  bed. 

"  I'd — jus' — 's — soon,"  said  the  sleepy 
Boy  From  the  Day  Coach. 

Then  off  they  went,  the  two  of  them — 
hand  in  hand,  laughing  as  they  staggered 
in  response  to  the  motion  of  the  train — off 
they  went  to  the  stateroom,  to  which  the 
woolly-white  Negro  Porter  had  already 
fetched  the  little  boy's  very  little  bag. 
The  Lady  in  Black  closed  the  door  ;  but  a 
[48] 


The   Borrowed  Child 

lurch  of  the  car,  which  seemed,  somehow, 
to  be  in  league  with  our  desire,  promptly 
opened  it  a  little,  so  that  we  might  hear 
what  went  on  within.  We  were  very  still ; 
there  was  no  agreement  to  this  end — no 
spoken  word,  no  meaning  glance.  We 
just  kept  very  still ;  and  four  tongues  were 
idle,  and  four  heads  were  cocked,  and  four 
left  ears  were  wide  open,  and  four  hearts 
were  eager  to  know  the  soft  truths  of  life 
and  love  which  disclose  themselves  when 
a  mother  puts  her  child  to  bed.  The  train 
creaked  and  rumbled  and  clattered  ;  we 
heard  little  enough — only  a  crooning  mut 
ter  and  an  occasional  childish  chuckle. 
But  presently  the  train  stopped ;  it 
screamed  and  jerked  as  it  ran  complain 
ing  into  some  lost  drifted  station  of  the 
line,  but  there  stopped,  and  silence  came, 
except  for  the  long  howl  of  the  winter 
wind  and  the  gale's  passionate  beating  on 
the  windows.  What  then  I  heard  I  shall 
never  forget.  It  was  nothing  to  move  a 
man  ;  the  words  are  spoken,  perhaps,  every 
night,  in  every  household  of  the  land  where 
[49] 


The    Suitable    Child 

children  dwell  in  their  mothers'  care. 
Simple  words,  indeed !  but  they  stirred 
me,  and  I  shall  ever  remember  them — be 
cause  of  the  loneliness  of  the  child,  it  may 
be,  and  because  of  the  loneliness  of  the 
little  Lady  in  Black. 

"  Now,  dear — prayers  !  "  said  the  brisk 
little  Lady  in  Black,  as  she  patted  the  pil 
low. 

"  I'd — jus' — 's — soon,"  said  the  boy. 

We  leaned  a  little  forward,  and  we  lis 
tened  yet  more  intently;  but  we  heard 
nothing  definite,  after  all — nothing  but  a 
word  or  two  of  sleepy  patter  to  indicate 
that  the  ancient  childish  prayer  was  once 
more  ascending.  Though  it  was  but  a 
low  mutter  to  remind  us,  we  knew  it,  every 
word.  "  Jesus,  tender  shepherd,  hear  me !  " 
and  "  I  pray  Thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  keep," 
and  "  God  bless  papa  and  mama."  We 
had  once  been  children ;  we  remembered. 
They  say  the  God-bless  variously  ;  they 
include  uncle  and  auntie  and  sister  and 
grandmother  and  the  intruding  Mister 
This  and  That.  It  is  surely  saving  to  be 
[50] 


The   Borrowed   Child 

prayed  for  by  little  children  who  have  in 
their  hearts  that  purity  of  faith  which  the 
grown-up  world  must  watchfully  preserve 
and  never  can  perfectly  possess  again.  .  .  . 

The  Winnipeg  West  Bound  Express 
proceeded  according  to  its  daily  schedule 
(but  now  much  behind)  ;  the  shivering 
conductor  waved  his  lantern,  the  station- 
master,  warm  in  his  bay-windowed  office, 
ticked  the  message  of  departure,  the  engi 
neer  pulled  the  throttle,  the  steam  an 
swered  to  this  compulsion,  and  the  wheels 
groaned,  and  the  train  ran  breasting  into 
the  storm.  Then  appeared  from  the  state 
room  the  Lady  in  Black,  securely  closing 
the  door  behind  her ;  and  she  was  no 
longer  woebegone,  no  longer  pale,  no 
longer  suffering  from  a  cynical  discour 
agement  ;  she  was,  indeed,  elated,  and 
wore  the  sweet  flush  of  elation,  so  that  we 
wondered  (I  am  speaking  for  myself)  at 
her  young  motherly  beauty.  She  dis 
closed  to  us  a  wondrous  charm — not  of 
hair  and  eyes  and  tender  form — but  a 
[51] 


The    Suitable   Child 

beauty  of  the  spirit,  which  comes  enrav- 
ishingly  to  mothers.  She  protested,  in 
stantly — and  it  was  entrancing  to  listen  to 
this  unsophisticated  prattle — she  protested 
that  the  slow,  deep,  grave  voice  of  the 
boy,  and  his  sturdy  body,  his  manly  ways, 
his  courage  and  self-sufficiency,  his  very 
scowl,  were  most  fetching  (as  she  said). 
Then  we  grew  really  friends  together : 
made  friends  not  only  by  the  accident  of 
our  situation,  which  was  no  solder  of 
friendship,  but  by  our  common  interest  in 
a  child.  Very  soon,  all  being  eager,  we 
went  hilariously  to  the  baggage-car,  and 
from  our  luggage  extracted  what  seemed 
to  us  most  pleasing  to  the  boy  who  lay 
asleep  in  our  care  ;  and,  as  you  may  guess, 
the  Lady  in  Black  had  the  best  of  us  in  this. 

We  complained  a  little. 

"  Never  mind,"  she  comforted.  "  I," 
said  she,  "  was  the  mother  of  a  son ;  but 
not  one  of  you  has  anything  but  a  niece 
or  a  daughter." 

"  I  have  a  niece,"  said  the  Old  Gentle 
man  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes,  defiantly. 
[52] 


The    Borrowed   Child 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  little  Lady  in  Black, 
seriously  pitiful,  "  that  you  are  not  feeling 
hurt?" 

"  Not  at  all,  dear  lady  !  "  the  old  gentle 
man  replied,  in  great  indignation ;  "  not  in 
the  least,  I  assure  you  ! " 

We  returned  to  the  car  from  our  ravished 
trunks  ;  and  presently  the  long  little  stock 
ings  were  filled — were  packed  and  jammed 
and  distorted — and  there  was  an  overflow 
of  gifts  disposed  advantageously  upon  both 
seats  of  Section  Twelve.  Of  course,  the 
Lady  in  Black  had  the  best  of  it ;  having 
been  the  mother  of  a  lusty  boy,  she  had  a 
steam-engine  to  contribute  (the  boy's),  and 
a  Spaulding  Intermediate  ball  (the  boy's, 
stained  by  his  very  hand),  and  a  mask  of 
the  same  overcoming  trade-mark  (also  the 
boy's),  and  a  motor,  with  sufficient  wire  for 
practical  purposes  and  two  pretty  nearly 
fresh  batteries  (all  the  boy's),  and  a  tele 
graph  instrument  (often  touched  by  the 
boy's  own  hand,  which  had  been  cleverly 
used,  said  she,  to  the  Morse  code),  and  a 
what-not  of  boyish  possessions  I  cannot 
[53] 


The    Suitable    Child 

remember.  We  produced  our  puzzles  and 
paints  and  games  (having  with  wry  faces 
left  our  dolls  and  their  wardrobes  and 
trinkets  in  our  trunks) ;  and  we  added 
what  we  could  to  the  boy-things  which  the 
saucy  little  Lady  in  Black  had  freely  given 
of  those  sacred  and  religiously  treasured 
possessions  of  her  own  very  son,  whom  she 
had  lost  by  death. 

And  then  we  stood  back  to  gaze ! 

"  Dear  lady !  "  said  the  Old  Gentleman 
With  the  Twinkling  Eyes. 

The  little  lady  wiped  two  diamond- 
sparkling  tears  from  her  eyes  with  the 
little  handkerchief. 

"  Dear  lady,"  the  old  gentleman  re 
peated,  "  you  have  made  us  very  happy." 

The  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  bent  over  the  little  lady's  hand  again, 
in  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world,  and 
once  more  kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  in 
a  fashion  most  courtly. 


[54] 


IV 


At  Odds  With  God 


T  was  yet  early  for  grown 
ups.  The  English  Church 
Clergyman  protested  that 
to  go  to  bed  before  mid 
night  of  Christmas  Eve 
was  error  like  unright 
eousness  :  nor  would  he  absolve  a  soul  at 
early  service  in  the  car  next  morning  (said 
he)  who  committed  the  sin  that  night.  It 
turned  out  that  we  were  all  fortunately 
of  his  mind ;  and  so  down  we  sat  inti 
mately  together  in  Section  Eleven  (save 
the  Story  Teller,  who  must  occupy  the  arm 
of  the  opposite  section)  to  talk  of  Christ 
mas  delights  and  doings  and  all  things. 
The  stateroom  door  was  closed  tight,  as  I 
have  pointed  out,  and  we  fancied  our  gifts 
secure  from  discovery ;  but  in  this  we  were 
mistaken — and  you  may  be  sure  that  the 
adventure  left  us  with  palpitating  hearts 
and  much  less  breath  than  we  could  com- 
[55] 


The   Suitable    Child 

fortably  do  with.  For  a  long  time  before 
the  trying  incident,  however,  we  sat  talk 
ing,  in  the  spirit  of  that  feeling  Christmas 
Eve,  of  the  affections  and  of  children, 
and  of  the  fine  love  which  is  apart  from 
selfish  seeking,  and  of  bounty,  and  of  re 
ceiving.  "  Somehow,"  said  the  Big  Farmer 
From  Saskatchewan,  at  last,  "the  little  kid 
in  the  stateroom  reminds  me  of  old  Joe 
Jacket.  It  didn't  happen  on  Christmas 
Eve ;  it  didn't  need  to  happen  then.  It 
was  just  one  of  those  Christmas  things 
which  may  happen  any  time  without  being 
ashamed  of  itself " — and  he  looked  inquir 
ingly  at  the  Lady  in  Black. 

The  little  lady  graciously  inclined  her 
head. 

"Joe  Jacket,"  the  Big  Farmer  began, 
"  took  up  land  in  Saskatchewan,  north  of 
the  railroad  at  Flatland  Station,  a  good 
many  years  ago,  when  the  prairie  was  raw 
and  didn't  have  to  be  coaxed  to  be  good. 
He  got  along,  too,  right  from  the  start. 
He  got  along  so  well  that  to-day  he  knows 
all  about  high  power  automobiles  and  has 
[56] 


At   Odds   With   God 

the  hobby  of  keeping  abreast  of  the  latest 
fashions  in  farm  implements.  That  means 
a  lot,  you  understand ;  it  means  as  much 
unmortgaged  land  as  any  man  could  care 
to  farm — it  means  barns  and  fences,  a 
homestead  and  blue-ribbon  stock,  cash  on 
deposit,  and  a  credit  at  the  Flatland  Bank 
that  the  Almighty  Himself  might  envy. 
It  wasn't  all  his  own  fault ;  his  wife  had  a 
good  deal  to  do  with  it,  in  the  way  of  good 
wives.  A  little  girl  from  North  Perth,  she 
was,  sweet  and  blooming  when  she  mar 
ried  Joe  Jacket,  God  knows  !  but  sour  as  a 
choke-cherry  before  she  got  old  enough  to 
quit  playing  the  square  piano  she  had 
fetched  from  the  East. 

"  '  I  got  to  do  something  about  this,'  Joe 
Jacket  used  to  think  in  those  days ;  but  it 
was  a  long,  long  time,  my  friends,  before 
he  hit  on  the  right  idea. 
;•'•  "  They  had  one  child,  born  late — a  little 
girl  that  got  the  late-coming  baby's  wel 
come.  Elizabeth  Jacket  had  coaxed  the 
Lord  so  hard  for  that  one  child  that  just 
from  force  of  habit  she  would  sometimes 
[57] 


The    Suitable    Child 

pray  for  a  baby  in  her  sleep  ;  and  when  it 
came — when  it  actually  came  at  last — she 
didn't  wait  to  take  two  looks  before  she 
loved  it  more  than  she  loved  the  Lord  who 
sent  it.  Neither  did  Joe :  Joe  was  always 
satisfied  with  whatever  pleased  Elizabeth, 
anyhow  ;  and  in  ten  squally  minutes  this 
particular  child  had  got  a  good  deal  fur 
ther  along  with  Elizabeth  than  just  pleas 
ing.  Being  a  woman,  Elizabeth  thought,  f 
of  course,  that  it  was  an  answer  to  prayer ; 
and  Joe  Jacket  thought  so,  too,  in  Joe 
Jacket's  own  way — 'Whether  it  is  or  not,' 
says  he,  '  it's  just  like  an  answer  to  prayer, 
and  that's  all  I  know  about  it.' 

"  'What  do  you  mean  by  that? '  said  I. 

" '  I  mean,'  says  he,  '  that  it's  just  like 
an  answer  to  prayer.' 

"  '  What  does  that  mean  ? '  said  I. 

"  '  Well,  the  Lord  is  as  kind  as  kind  can 
be,'  says  he,  '  but  cunning  in  a  temper ; 
and  when  you  tease  Him,'  says  he,  '  He's 
likely  to  answer  in  the  way  you  least  ex 
pect.' 

"  'That  wouldn't  be  an  answer,'  said  I. 
[58] 


At   Odds   With   God 

"  '  It  wouldn't,  eh  ? '  says  he.  '  Well,  ac 
cording  to  my  notion,  it's  just  exactly  the 
kind  of  answer  you  want  to  look  out  for 
when  you  tease  too  much.' 

"  '  Didn't  she  get  what  she  asked  for?' 

"  '  Ye-e-s,'  says  he  ;  '  she  got  a  real  baby, 
all  right ! ' 

"It  was  a  real  baby  ;  and  it  grew  up  to 
be  a  real  little  girl  of  seven  or  thereabout 
>. — sweet  and  soft,  a  loving,  bright  little 
thing,  with  glorious  black  hair  and  big 
gray  eyes.  I  never  looked  into  eyes  as 
deep  and  mild  in  any  other  child ;  and  I 
tell  you,  my  friends,  God  gives  the  glory  of 
hair  like  Amy's  only  to  one  sort  of  all  the 
children  He  makes.  Elizabeth  loved  her, 
and  I  loved  her;  everybody  knew  her, 
and  everybody  loved  her — everybody  from 
Flatland  Station  to  Indian  Ferry ;  and 
that's  just  as  far  as  Joe  Jacket's  name 
carried,  just  as  wide  a  stretch  of  prairie 
as  Elizabeth  Jacket's  Christmas  gifts  to 
poor  children  could  be  taken  over  with 
any  safety  through  the  snow.  Maybe  the 
circumstances  were  peculiar :  I  don't  know ; 
[59] 


The    Suitable    Child 

but  anyhow,  Elizabeth  Jacket's  love  didn't 
stop  in  Amy — there  was  enough  of  it  left 
to  go  on,  right  through,  and  bless  the  chil 
dren  of  all  the  prairie  roundabout  Flatland 
Station.  Elizabeth  Jacket  took  that  child 
as  a  gift  from  the  Lord's  own  hands ;  and 
being  a  grateful  and  pious  and  practical 
woman,  she  started  out  to  give  value  re 
ceived  in  good  deeds  and  Joe  Jacket's 
money. 

"  '  Look  here,  Lizzie,'  says  Joe  ;  '  you're 
getting  away  with  a  lot  of  money  this 
Christmas.' 

"  '  I'm  only  thanking  God,'  said  she. 

"  '  All  right,  Lizzie,'  says  he.  '  It  isn't 
the  money  ;  there's  more  where  that  came 
from.  But  my  dear,'  says  he,  'are  you 
sure  it's  just  thankfulness?  Aren't  you 
trying  to  buy  God  off?' 

" '  I'm  afraid  of  God  ! '  said  she. 

'"I  thought  so,'  says  he. 

" '  And  you  know  that  Amy,'  says  she, 
'  isn't  very  strong.' 

"  '  That's  just  it,'  says  he ;  '  but  you  can't 
square  Him,  Lizzie — He'll  go  right  ahead 
[60] 


At    Odds   With    God 

and  have  His  own  way  no  matter  what 
good  deeds  you  may  do.  The  only  way 
to  head  Him  off  is  to  take  good  care  of 
Amy.' 

"  '  Perhaps,'  says  she  ;  '  but  I've  got  the 
habit,  now,  and  I  want  that  money.' 

"  She  got  the  money — she  got  all  the 
money  she  wanted,  of  course — and  she 
took  good  care  of  Amy — and  she  kept 
busy  being  kind  to  all  the  world  accord 
ing  to  the  Lord's  own  directions ;  but  it 
didn't  do  any  good  at  all.  .  .  .  Poor  little 
Amy  died  just  the  same.  .  .  ." 

The  little  Lady  in  Black  started  when 
the  Big  Farmer  From  Saskatchewan  came 
to  this  sad  and  unexpected  climax. 

"  Died  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Just  the  same,"  the  farmer  replied. 

We  wondered  what  happened  then  to 
Elizabeth  Jacket ;  and  I  drew  closer,  to 
hear  the  better,  for  the  train  was  running 
more  freely,  now,  and  there  was  a  larger 
clatter  and  rumble. 

"After   that,  as   always  happens,"  the 
[61] 


The    Suitable    Child 

farmer  continued,  "  Elizabeth  Jacket  didn't 
quite  resemble  herself.  She  didn't  look 
enough  like  her  old  self  to  be  mistaken  for 
a  jilted  elder  sister  ;  she  didn't  even  keep 
a  hint  of  the  sweet  family  resemblance  that 
all  the  daughters  of  love  seem  somehow  to 
have.  You  take  the  mother  of  a  thirteenth 
papoose — and  I'm  talking  of  real  mothers, 
mind  you,  not  of  the  sulky  sort — you  take 
the  mother  of  a  thirteenth  little  Indian,  and 
when  it  comes  right  down  to  the  things 
that  count,  she's  twin  sister  to  the  silk- 
skirted  mama  of  a  baby  with  rose-leaf  lips. 
But  Elizabeth — poor  Elizabeth  Jacket — 
when  the  good  Lord  kindly  supplied  Amy 
with  the  angel's  outfit  of  feathers  and  gold 
— poor  Elizabeth  Jacket  lost  all  the  sweet 
ness  of  look  and  life  that  had  made  her  lit 
tle  footprints  loved  by  all  them  that  were 
needy  and  in  pain  on  the  prairie  near  Flat- 
land  Station.  Joe  Jacket's  pocketbook 
was  just  as  fat  the  day  after  Christmas  as 
the  day  before — which  is  a  thing  to  make 
any  pocketbook  ashamed  to  look  its  own 
master  in  the  eye  !  And  there  wasn't  any 
[62] 


At   Odds   With   God 

help  for  it :  Elizabeth  Jacket  wouldn't  have 
a  neighbour's  child  about  the  place  ;  she 
couldn't  pass  the  section  schoolhouse  at 
recess,  she  couldn't  watch  the  boys  go  gal 
loping  by,  she  couldn't  hear  talk  of  measles 
and  chicken-pox,  she  couldn't  even  bear  to 
see  the  little  garments  of  a  child  swinging 
in  the  wind  to  dry.  She  couldn't  stand  chil 
dren  any  more  !  And  most  of  all — just  be 
cause  Amy  had  had  a  sweet  little  pipe  of 
her  own — she  couldn't  stand  it  to  hear  the 
children  singing  '  Jesus  Loves  Me '  in  the 
Sunday-school ;  and  that's  why,  I  suppose, 
the  Jackets  quit  going  to  church. 

"  '  Joe,'  said  I,  '  what's  the  use  ?  "  God 
moves  in  a  mysterious  way." 

"  '  Yes,'  says  he  ;  '  that's  right,  I  guess  ! ' 

"  '  Well,  then/  said  I,  '  what's  the  use  of 
asking  why?  You  can't  find  out,  and  it 
wouldn't  be  much  comfort  if  you  could.' 

"  '  Don't  want  to  find  out,'  says  he ;  '  that 
isn't  what  troubles  me.' 

"  '  What  does  ?  '  said  I. 

"  '  Elizabeth,'  says  he  ;  '  she's  all  broken 
down.' 

[63] 


The   Suitable    Child 

"  '  Of  course,'  said  I ;  '  but  what  are  you 
going  to  do  about  it  ? ' 

"  '  I  think/  says  he,  '  that  if  I'm  devilish 
clever  I  can  do  something! 

"'That's  all  right,'  said  I;  'but  what 
can  you  do  ?  ' 

"  '  Well,'  says  he,  '  I  look  at  it  this  way  : 
Here's  God  and  us.  God  wants  His  way 
and  we  want  ours.  That's  natural :  He's 
the  father  and  we're  the  children.  Maybe 
His  way's  the  best ;  but  I  don't  see  it — I 
just  carit  see  it.  So  what  I  want  to  know 
just  now  isn't  what  God  intends  for  our 
good,  nor  why  He  intends  it ;  it's  some 
thing  else.' 

"  '  What  is  it? '  said  I. 

"  '  I  just  want  to  know,'  says  he,  '  how  I 
can  get  around  Him  in  this  particular 
case.' 

"  '  I  wouldn't  try,'  said  I. 

" '  That's  because  you're  a  perverted 
Christian,'  says  Joe  ;  '  just  because  you're 
one  of  God's  sweet  toadies,  and  don't  know 
any  better.' 

"  '  Isn't  this  thing  an  act  of  Providence  ? ' 
[64] 


At    Odds   With   God 

"  '  Yes,'  says  he  ;  '  and  if  it  isn't,  it's  just 
like  one.' 

"  '  Haven't  you  heard  of  such  a  thing  as 
pious  resignation  ? ' 

"  '  I've  heard,'  says  he,  '  but  haven't  at 
tended.' 

" '  You  won't  give  in  ? ' 

"  '  Not  at  once,'  says  he.  '  I'll  do  what 
I  can  to  have  what  I  want.' 

"  '  Well,'  says  I,  '  it  looks  to  me  as  if 
you'd  begun  to  monkey  with  the  buzz-saw.' 

"  '  Oh,  I  don't  know,'  says  he,  with  a 
queer  little  laugh  and  twinkle,  just  the  sort 
of  look  Joe  Jacket  had  when  he  didn't  want 
you  to  know  whether  he  was  in  earnest  or 
not — '  Oh,  I  don't  know,'  says  he  ;  '  but  I 
guess  a  little  show  of  spirit  won't  cost  me 
any  of  the  Lord's  respect.'  ' 

The  Big  Farmer  laughed. 

"  Good  for  Joe  Jacket ! "  exclaimed  the 
Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes. 

"You   must   not   think,"    said   the  Big 

Farmer  to  the  Lady  in  Black,  "  that  Joe 

Jacket  was  a  blasphemous  fellow.     Not  at 

alll"  he  protested;  "  nothing  of  the  sort ! 

[65] 


The   Suitable   Child 

Joe  Jacket  was — just  Joe  Jacket.  It  was 
just  like  him  to  say  that  he  would  try  to 
outwit  the  Lord  ;  but  once  the  Lord  pointed 
out  the  error,  Joe  Jacket  would  be  con 
vinced.  And  whether  he  outwitted  God  or 
God  outwitted  him  you  may  tell  when  my 
story  is  done." 

The  English  Church  Clergyman  was 
willing  to  wager  that  Joe  Jacket  did  not 
accomplish  the  feat. 

"  About  two  years  after  Amy's  death," 
the  farmer  continued,  "  Joe  Jacket  got  the 
idea  that  he  was  after.  It  was  unselfish 
enough  in  the  beginning:  all  he  wanted 
to  do  was  to  restore  Elizabeth's  comfort ; 
but  by  and  by,  when  he  had  brooded  be 
yond  what  he  was  used  to,  it  turned  into 
a  more  selfish  wish  than  Joe  Jacket  was  in 
the  habit  of  putting  up  over  night.  He'd 
adopt  a  child  (thinks  he)  ;  but  not  a  girl — 
no  girl  for  him  !  What  he  wanted  was  a 
boy :  a  wire-haired  lad  with  black  eyes — a 
lad  that  would  laugh  and  howl  and  get 
in  mischief  and  generally  raise  the  devil 
[66] 


At   Odds    With    God 

about  the  place — a  lad  of  spirit — a  lad 
that  would  stand  off  and  look  Joe  Jacket 
in  the  eye  when  it  came  time  for  a  licking 
— just  the  sort  of  lad  that  Joe  Jacket  fan 
cied  he  used  to  be  himself.  And  it  was 
the  picture  of  a  harum-scarum  bullet- 
headed  little  devil  with  black  eyes  that  he 
had  in  mind  when  he  broached  the  subject 
to  Elizabeth  one  night  at  the  supper  table. 

"  '  Elizabeth/  says  he,  '  I  don't  think  we 
can  do  better  than  adopt.' 

"  '  It  depends/  said  she. 

"  '  Of  course/  says  he,  '  we  wouldn't  be 
in  a  hurry ;  and  we've  got  the  money  to 
get  about  anything  we  want.' 

" '  I  wouldn't  object/  said  she,  '  if  we 
could  find  a  suitable  child/ 

"  '  What  sort  do  you  fancy  ? '  says  he. 

"  '  That's  the  trouble/  said  she.  '  I  don't 
know.  Sometimes  I  think  that  one  like 
Amy  would  suit ;  and  then  I  don't  see  how 
I  could  stand  it — how  I  could  bear  to  be 
reminded  of  Amy  every  minute  of  the  day. 
But  I'm  sure/  said  she,  '  that  I  don't  want 
any  one  so — so  very — different.  I'd  be  so 
[67] 


The    Suitable   Child 

jealous,  Joe.  I'd  be  so  jealous  that  I  don't 
know  what  would  happen.  So  I  don't 
know,  you  see,  just  what  would  be  suitable.' 

"  '  Go  ahead,'  says  he,  '  and  give  me  an 
idea.' 

"  '  It's  so  hard,'  said  she.  '  I  can  only 
tell  about  the  little  things — the  little  things 
that  don't  matter,  after  all.  .  .  .  Brown 
eyes,  I  should  think.' 

"  '  All  right,'  says  Joe  ;  '  brown  eyes  for 
one  thing.' 

"  '  It  wouldn't  really  matter,  you  know/ 
said  she.  '  I  should  not  insist.  But  it 
would  be  rather  nice,  I  think.' 

"  '  Brown  eyes  it  is,'  says  Joe.  '  What 
next  ? ' 

" '  So  far  as  such  little  things  go,'  said 
she,  '  there's  nothing  else  to  care  about  but 
hair.  Curls,  I  suppose.' 

"  '  Curls ! '  Joe  Jacket  roared.  '  What  do 
you  want  curls  for  ? ' 

"  '  Why,  Joe  ! '  said  she  ;  '  surely  you're 
not  thinking  of  a  boy,  are  you  ? ' 

"  '  Eh  ? '  says  he  ;  '  what  put  that  in  your 
head  ? ' 

[68] 


At   Odds   With   God 

"  '  You  know  perfectly  well,'  said  she, 
1  that  it's  only  boys  that  don't  need  curls.' 

" '  Well,'  says  Joe,  '  I  guess  we  don't 
want  any  fool  boy  around  this  place  1 ' 

"  And  Elizabeth  thought  so,  too. 

"  Elizabeth  said  she  wouldn't  go  to 
Winnipeg  to  look  for  the  suitable  child. 
Joe  joked  her,  and  argued  that  it  was  a 
woman's  business  to  match  samples ;  and 
anyhow  (says  he)  the  man  of  the  house  al 
ways  made  a  mess  of  it  when  he  went  to 
market  for  the  women.  But  Elizabeth 
wouldn't  budge ;  she'd  stay  home  (says 
she),  and  maybe,  if  she  didn't  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  choosing,  but  sud 
denly  found  a  little  orphaned  child  in  the 
house,  with  no  other  woman  to  look  to  but 
her,  she'd  be  far  more  likely  to  take  to  it. 

"  '  If  a  child  came  now,'  said  she ;  '  if 
some  forsaken  little  child  came  out  of  the 
dark  and  asked  me  to  love  her,  I  think  I 
could — to-night.' 

"  '  Of  course,  you  could  ! '  says  Joe. 

"  '  A  ragged  child,'  said  she ;  '  a  sick 
[69] 


The   Suitable    Child 

little  girl — a  child  without  a  mother.  Yes,' 
said  she,  '  I'm  almost  sure  I  could.' 

"  '  You'd  have  a  hard  time,'  says  Joe, '  to 
keep  from  loving  her.' 

"  '  I  don't  know,'  said  Elizabeth. 

"  '  You  just  couldn't  help  it,'  said  Joe. 

"  '  I  don't  know,'  said  she. 

" '  You'll  be  hard  to  suit,  maybe,  Eliza 
beth,'  says  Joe  ;  '  but  I'll  try  to  fit  you  out.' 

"  '  You  must  find  one,'  said  she.  '  I  tell 
you,  Joe — you  just  must  !  ' 

"  Joe  Jacket  looked  in  Elizabeth's  eyes, 
and  knew,  then,  that  he  must — that  he 
just  must — and  p.  d.  q.,  too  /  .  .  .  I  beg 
your  pardon!"  the  Big  Farmer  immedi 
ately  burst  out,  looking  at  the  Lady  in 
Black.  "  Really,  I " 

Then  came  the  adventure. 


[70] 


In  Need 


T  was  not  a  head-on  col 
lision.  The  train  did  no( 
even  jump  the  track.  But 
we  five  travellers  could 
hardly  have  been  startled 
more.  With  the  Boy 
From  the  Day  Coach  put  to  bed,  we  had 
thought  our  Christmas  gifts  secure  from 
discovery  ;  but  in  this  we  were  mistaken. 
It  was  not  a  lurch  of  the  train  that  opened 
the  stateroom  door;  it  was  a  hand — the 
child' 's  hand!  And  before  we  had  quite 
perceived  our  peril — and  before  the  im 
pulse  to  save  ourselves  could  result  in 
action — the  door  was  wide  and  the  boy 
was  about  to  issue.  The  quick-witted  and 
marvellously  agile  Old  Gentleman  With 
the  Twinkling  Eyes  saved  us  ;  at  a  bound 
— and  with  a  roar — he  reached  the  thresh 
old  ;  and  so  did  he  seem  to  lengthen  out 
and  broaden,  and  so  cleverly  did  he  ar- 


The    Suitable    Child 

range  his  elbows  and  employ  the  tails  of 
his  coat,  that  he  completely  filled  the 
doorway,  thank  God  1  and  the  boy  could 
not  so  much  as  peep  beyond. 

We  followed  precipitately,  the  little  lady 
first,  a  screech  having  relieved  her  paraly 
sis  ;  and  presently,  peering  over  the  old 
gentleman's  shoulders,  we  faced  the  Boy 
From  the  Day  Coach,  now  in  his  night 
dress,  who  stood  swaying  by  the  tousled 
bed. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  f  "  the  old 
gentleman  demanded. 

The  little  boy  scowled  ;  his  lips  pouted, 
his  nostrils  flared,  his  eyes  glared  from  be 
hind  his  fallen  eyebrows,  and,  in  all,  his 
face  was  like  a  thunder-cloud.  The  little 
Lady  in  Black,  much  perturbed,  slipped 
under  the  old  gentleman's  elbow,  like  a 
swift  shadow,  and  so  kneeled,  the  mean 
time  putting  her  arms  about  the  child,  that 
she  could  look  directly  into  his  eyes. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  she  asked,  most 
anxiously. 

"  Don't — none — o'  you — want — one  ?  " 

[72] 


In    Ne  e  d 

The  eyes  of  the  old  gentleman  met 
mine  ;  but  neither  the  Big  Farmer  nor  the 
English  Church  Clergyman  nor  the  Lady 
in  Black  understood,  and  they  were  all  be 
wildered,  and  they  were  all  silent. 

"  Not — no — one  ?  "  the  boy  wailed. 

"  Aren't  you  well  ?  "  asked  the  Lady  in 
Black.  "  You're — you're  not  sick — are 
you?" 

"  Naw  !  "  the  boy  replied. 

"We  don't  understand,  dear,"  said  the 
Lady  in  Black,  tenderly.  "  Speak  plainly, 
won't  you  ?  tell  us  what  the  matter  is. 
What  is  it  that  you  think  we  do  not  want  ?  " 

The  boy  snuffled. 

"  Tell  me,  dear,"  the  Lady  in  Black  be 
sought,  as  though  it  were  some  secret,  fit 
only  for  women's  ears.  "Won't  you?" 
she  invited,  drawing  the  little  boy  close,  so 
that  he  might  whisper  in  her  ear. 

"  Don't — none — o'  you — want — one?"  he 
repeated. 

"  Want  what,  dear  ?  " 

"  A— norphan  ?  " 

It  is  not  my  wish  ever  again  to  be  on- 
[73] 


The    Suitable    Child 

looker  when  a  woman  suffers  an  agony 
peculiar  to  women.  She  groaned  ;  it  was 
the  expression,  almost,  of  a  physical  pain ; 
had  she  been  wounded  to  death,  I  fancy, 
she  could  not  have  suffered  more.  She 
was  heart-broken  and  lonely,  of  course, 
and  complaining  of  her  desolation,  having 
lost  her  son ;  and  it  has  seemed  to  me 
since  that  she  must  at  that  moment  have 
had  a  vision  of  the  pain  and  need  of  a 
child  that  had  no  mother — she  must  have 
learned  the  lesson  that  her  loneliness  was 
not  equal  to  a  loneliness  like  that  despair. 
Perhaps  shame  was  mixed  with  sympathy  ; 
perhaps  in  a  flash  of  loving  wisdom  she 
discovered  the  cure  of  woe  like  his  and 
hers ;  perhaps  the  seed  of  a  resolution, 
cast  here  by  the  all-wise  hand  of  God, 
found  fruitful  soil.  She  hugged  the  child  ; 
she  hugged  him  so  swiftly,  so  hard,  so 
long,  that  it  hurt  him — so  hard  that  the 
breath  was  crushed  out  of  him  and  his 
little  ribs  complained — so  hard  that  in 
pain  and  amazement  and  in  ecstatic  hope 
(as  I  translate  his  astounding  expression) 
[74] 


In    Need 

he  caught  her  by  the  shoulders  and  in  a 
man's  rough  way  tried  to  push  her  back, 
so  that  he  could  look  into  her  eyes,  and 
ask  her  what  she  meant. 

The  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  closed  the  door  upon  this ;  and  we 
sat  down  again,  in  Section  Eleven,  and 
on  the  arm  of  Section  Twelve,  to  wait ;  and 
we  were  ashamed  to  look  one  another  in 
the  eye,  too  deeply  embarrassed  to  say 
even  one  conventional  word,  because  each 
had  caught  the  other  in  a  tearful  emotion. 
The  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling 
Eyes  whistled  his  sentimental  ballad, 
'Neath  the  Shade  of  the  Old  Apple  Tree, 
quite  out  of  tune,  to  prove  that  he  didn't 
care ;  but  the  English  Church  Clergyman 
and  the  Big  Farmer  From  Saskatchewan 
and  I,  less  devil-may-care  than  he,  looked 
at  the  floor,  and  twirled  our  thumbs,  and 
snuffled  and  coughed,  in  an  effort  to  con 
trol  the  unmanly  display,  but  dared  not 
face  each  other. 

When  the  Little  Lady  in  Black  appeared, 
she  left  the  door  wide  open. 
[75] 


The    Suitable    Child 

"  He's  sound  asleep,"  said  she,  smiling. 

We  saw,  peering  inquisitively,  that  he 
was  sound  asleep;  we  saw  that  the  un 
fortunate  orphan's  head  appeared  to  be  in 
imminent  danger  of  wringing  his  neck, 
that  his  mouth  was  wide  open,  that  he  was 
in  a  dangerous  sweat  (so  concerned  were 
we  for  his  health),  and  that  he  was  in  peril 
of  strangling  himself  with  his  own  bare 
arms. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  the  rest  of  the 
story/'  said  the  Lady  in  Black,  when  we 
were  seated  again. 

I  watched  her  countenance  for  some  ink 
ling  of  what  had  passed  between  her  and 
the  child  ;  but  she  betrayed  never  a  sign — 
unless,  indeed,  her  very  reserve  might  be 
taken  for  a  sign !  And  I  was  disap 
pointed.  .  .  . 


[76] 


VI 

Outwitted 

OU  can  find  almost  any 
thing  you  want  in  the  in 
stitutions  at  Winnipeg," 
the  farmer  resumed.  "It's 
a  great  market  for  or 
phans — a  sort  of  distribut 
ing  point  for  the  West.  Domestic  or  im 
ported — you  can  get  anything — you  can 
match  what  you  want  in  colour,  age,  sex, 
disposition,  defects  and  religious  faith.  If 
you  want  a  red-headed  Presbyterian  boy 
of  seven  with  green  eyes,  they'll  supply 
you  within  six  months  of  the  required  age ; 
and  if  you  want  a  Baptist  brunette  with  a 
lisp,  all  you  got  to  do  is  say  so.  Joe 
Jacket  found  what  he  wanted  right  away : 
a  brown-eyed  little  girl  with  curls  and  red 
cheeks — roguish  brown  eyes  and  golden 
curls — the  very  thing  he  was  looking  for — 
right  out  of  the  Christmas  Number  of  the 
Illustrated  London  News.  He  loved  her 
[77] 


The    Suitable    Child 

from  the  first ;  the  minute  he  saw  her  in 
the  line,  he  suspected  that  God  had  relented 
a  little,  and  maybe  had  quite  changed  His 
mind. 

"  '  There,'  says  he  to  the  superintendent ; 
'  that's  the  one  I  want.' 

" '  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry ! '  says  she.  '  Wouldn't 
another  one  do  ? ' 

" '  No,'  says  Joe ;  '  it's  that  one  or  none.' 

" '  She's  spoken  for,'  says  the  superin 
tendent. 

" '  Well,'  says  Joe,  '  you  got  to  get 
around  it  somehow.  I've  just  got  to  have 
that  little  tyke  ! ' 

"  It  wasn't  so  hard  to  manage,  after  all, 
once  the  superintendent  found  out  that  she 
couldn't  pass  off  'something  just  as  good' 
on  Joe  Jacket.  The  fact  is,  they  wanted 
to  keep  Nellie  at  the  orphanage  for  them 
selves.  She  was  so  sweet  to  the  eye,  you 
see,  and  so  grateful  to  the  heart — so  lov 
able  and  loving — that  they  couldn't  bear 
to  let  her  go.  She  was  the  one  perfect  bud 
in  that  scrawny  little  garden,  and  they 
loved  her — for  her  truth  and  affection  and 
[78] 


Outwitted 

childish  loveliness.  Somebody  else  wanted 
her  ;  that  was  true  enough — some  perfectly 
proper  old  maid  of  Edmonton,  with  money 
enough  to  make  good  the  child's  future. 
But  the  arrangement  was  pending,  and  the 
superintendent  thought  it  could  be  squared 
for  Joe,  who  had  enough  human  kindness 
in  his  heart,  enough  money  in  his  pocket, 
to  make  him  a  desirable  father. 

"'Well?'  says  Joe.  'Come,  now! 
How  about  it  ? ' 

"  '  Take  her,'  says  the  superintendent ; 
4  and  God  bless  her ! ' 

" '  God  and  me  and  the  mother  of  Amy  1 ' 
says  Joe.  '  Wdll  take  care  of  Nellie.' 

"  She  was  never  afraid  of  Joe  Jacket. 
Maybe  she  had  wondered,  in  her  little  way, 
about  the  father  that  would  come  to  take 
her  away  ;  and  if  she  had,  she  was  content 
with  the  big  man  who  carried  her  off  on 
the  train.  She  seemed  to  love  him  all  at 
once — to  accept  him  without  doubt  or  any 
curiosity.  She  called  him  father  from  the 
start — just  as  she  had  expected  to  do,  I 
suppose — and  treated  him  just  as  trustingly 
[79] 


The   Suitable    Child 

and  dependently  and  lovingly  as  if  she  had 
never  known  the  lack  of  him.  It  was 
'  Father,  I'm  thirsty  ! '  and  '  Father,  I'm 
tired  ! '  and  '  Father,  I  love  you  ! ' — and  she 
kissed  him  without  fear,  and  went  to  sleep, 
by  and  by,  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder 
and  her  arms  'round  his  neck,  just  like  a 
child  of  his  own. 

"  When  the  train  stopped,  once,  she  woke 
up  ;  and  she  didn't  know  where  she  was, 
for  a  moment,  and  she  was  frightened. 

"  '  You're  all  right,'  says  Joe. 

"  '  Oh,  goody  ! '  says  she.  '  I  remem 
ber  ;  and  I'm  so  glad  it's  you — father.' 

"  And  she  snuggled  down  and  went  right 
straight  to  sleep  again  in  Joe  Jacket's  arms. 

"  When  Joe  Jacket  got  off  the  train  at 
Flatland  Station  he  was  ready  to  pat  him 
self  on  the  back  for  fetching  out  of  Winni 
peg  the  most  suitable  child  in  the  world. 
He  hadn't  a  doubt  that  Nellie  would  win 
Elizabeth's  love  just  the  way  she  had  cap 
tured  his.  There  she  was — affectionate 
and  mannerly  and  most  beautiful  1  What 
[80] 


Outwitted 

more  could  any  woman  ask  in  the  way  of 
a  ready-made  child  ?  Elizabeth  would 
have  to  be  won,  of  course  ;  he  expected 
that.  Maybe  she  wouldn't  give  in  at  once 
(thinks  he) ;  but  she  couldn't  help  it  in  the 
end.  She  wouldn't  need  much  more 
(thinks  he)  than  a  moist  kiss,  and  the  feel 
of  Nellie's  head  and  arms,  and  a  sleepy 
whisper  of  '  Mother,  I  love  you  ! '  It  made 
Joe  Jacket  laugh — 'way  down  deep,  some 
where,  where  a  man's  chuckles  are  some 
thing  like  sobs — it  made  the  old  fool  cry 
just  to  think  of  little  Nellie  in  the  house, 
loved  and  loving.  I  tell  you,  my  friends, 
Joe  Jacket  was  proud  and  happy  when  he 
carried  that  drowsy  burden  into  his  own 
home  that  night. 

"  '  Elizabeth,'  says  he, '  I  got  a  good  one.' 

"  '  Is  she  asleep,  Joe  ? ' 

" '  Yes,'  says  Joe ; '  she's  been  sound  asleep 
in  my  arms  all  the  way  from  Flatland  Station.' 

"  '  Poor  motherless  little  thing  I '  says 
Elizabeth. 

"  '  Not  now,  thank  God  ! '  says  Joe. 

" '  Poor  little  child  in  the  house  of 
[81] 


The   Suitable   Child 

strangers ! '  says  Elizabeth.  '  Have  you 
taken  to  her,  Joe  ? ' 

" '  Taken  to  her  ?  '  says  Joe.  '  Whyt 
Elizabeth,  I  love  her.' 

"  Elizabeth  looked  at  him,  then,  in  a  queer 
sort  of  way.  '  Do  you  ?'  says  she,  quietly. 

" '  She's  a  beautiful  child,'  says  Joe.  '  You'll 
love  her,  too.  You  won't  be  able  to  help  it.' 

"  '  Beautiful ! '  says  she,  turning  away 
from  Joe,  cut  to  the  quick  because  he  had 
called  her  beautiful.  'Of  course,  she's 
beautiful.  They're  all  beautiful  1 ' 

" '  Here,'  says  Joe  ;  '  take  her  and  put 
her  to  bed.' 

"  Elizabeth  took  her.  '  She  has  wonder 
ful  hair,'  says  she. 

"  '  She's  got  a  good  deal  more  than  that,' 
says  Joe.  '  Just  you  wait  till  you  see  her 
in  the  morning.' 

"  Nellie  stirred  a  little,  then,  but  didn't 
quite  wake  up  ;  and  she  kissed  Elizabeth 
in  her  sleep,  and  put  one  arm  around  her 
neck,  and  snuggled  her  head  in  the  place 
where  the  heads  of  children  lie  most  softly. 
It  seemed  to  frighten  Elizabeth.  She 
[82] 


"I    DON'T  KNOW,"    SATS    SHK. 


Outwitted 

trembled  a  little — and  held  her  head  away 
from  the  child's  curls. 

"  '  Isn't  it  good,'  says  Joe,  '  to  feel  a  little 
child  lying  there  again  ? ' 

"  Elizabeth  didn't  answer. 

"  '  Eh  ?  '  says  Joe.  '  Don't  it  feel  fine, 
Elizabeth  ? ' 

"  '  I  don't  know,'  says  she.  '  I — don't 
— know.' 

"  Joe  kissed  Nellie  good-night,  just  the 
way  he  used  to  kiss  Amy,  and  Elizabeth 
carried  her  up-stairs,  just  the  way  she  used 
to  carry  Amy,  when  Amy  would  fall  asleep 
by  the  fire.  Joe  was  anxious  by  this  time ; 
he  wasn't  quite  sure  that  he  had  done  as 
well  in  Winnipeg  as  he  had  given  himself 
credit  for.  But  he  couldn't  tell  why.  If 
Nellie  didn't  suit,  what  child  would  ?  Any 
how,  he  waited  until  Elizabeth  had  put 
Nellie  to  bed — he  could  tell  by  the  sounds, 
just  the  way  he  used  to  know  when  Amy 
was  stowed  away — and  then  he  wondered 
why  Elizabeth  didn't  come  down  the  way  she 
used  to  do  when  Amy  was  alive.  But  Eliza 
beth  didn't  come  ;  she  stayed  up-stairs  for 
[83] 


The   Suitable    Child 

a  long,  long  time,  and  Joe  could  hear  her 
in  Amy's  old  room,  where  Nellie  was 
asleep — could  hear  her  pacing  the  floor, 
walking,  walking,  back  and  forth,  like  a 
woman  in  trouble.  He  didn't  go  up  to  her  ; 
he  waited  until  she  came,  and  when  she 
did  come,  at  last,  she  was  so  white  and  hard 
and  bitter  that  Joe  was  frightened. 

"  '  What  is  it,  Elizabeth  ?  '  says  he. 

"  '  Never  mind,'  says  she,  in  a  passion. 

"  '  But  Elizabeth,'  says  he, '  I  must  know. 
You're  in  a  dreadful  way.  Tell  me  what's 
the  matter.' 

"'Matter?'  says  she.  'I'm  jealous. 
That's  what's  the  matter.' 

"  '  That's  strange,'  says  he. 

"  '  No,  it  isn't,'  says  she.  '  It  isn't  strange 
at  all.  It's  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  :  I've  just  put  that  child  to  bed.' 

" '  I  don't  see  any  cause  of  trouble  in 
that,'  says  he. 

"'Can't  you  understand?'  says  she. 
'  I've  just  put  that  child  to  bed.  I've  un 
dressed  her,  I  tell  you,  and  put  her  to  bed.' 

"  'My  dear,'  says  he, '  I  can't  understand.' 

[84] 


Outwitted 


"  'She's  beautiful,'  says  Elizabeth  ;  'she's 
strong  and  rosy  and  fat — she  hasn't  a 
blemish.  She  has  a  perfect  body — soft 
and  strong  and  beautiful.  If  she'd  been 
awake,  Joe,  she  could  have  gone  to  bed 
ivithout  my  help.  She  wouldn't  have 
needed  me.  I  didn't  know  that  God  made 
children  like  that.  I  had  forgotten.  And 
I'm  sorry  that  I  know  again.  I'm  jealous. 
I  thought  I'd  be.  I  told  you  so.  I'm  jeal 
ous,  I  tell  you — I'm  jealous  and  hateful.' 

"  '  What  are  you  jealous  for  ? '  says  he. 
'You  ought  to  be  proud.  The  child  is 
yours,  now,  isn't  she  ? ' 

"  Elizabeth  laughed.  '  The  child  isn't 
mine,'  says  she.  '  You  are  very  stupid,  Joe. 
Amy  was  my  child.  That's  why  I'm  jealous.' 

" '  I  understand,'  says  Joe, '  and  I'm  sorry.' 

"  '  What's  to  be  done  ? '  says  she. 

"  '  Couldn't  you  try  to  like  her  ? ' 

"'No,'  says  she;  'it  wouldn't  be  any 
use.  I  hate  her  too  much.' 

"  '  For  shame,  dear ! '  says  Joe. 

'"I  tell  you,  Joe,'  says  she,  ' I  hate  her. 
I'm  ashamed  of  myself.  I'd  like  to  call  it 
[85] 


The   Suitable   Child 

dislike — but  I  can't.  I  hate  her.  I  hate 
her  for  Amy's  sake.  You'll  have  to  take 
her  back,  Joe.  You  can  catch  the  morning 
express  for  the  East,  can't  you  ?  There's 
no  other  way  out  of  it,  Joe.  You'll  have 
to  take  her  back.' 

"  '  Yes,'  says  Joe  ;  '  she  must  go  back.' 

"  '  I'm  sorry,'  says  Elizabeth.  •  Oh,  I'm 
sorry ! ' 

"  '  Never  mind,'  says  he  ;  '  she's  not  a 
suitable  child  for  you  and  me,  and  neither 
you  nor  I  can  help  it.' 

"  Elizabeth  cried  all  that  night — in  shame 
and  sorrow.  Next  morning  Joe  started 
back  to  Winnipeg  with  Nellie.  .  .  .  And 
I  guess  Nellie  didn't  lose  much,  after  all ;  the 
old  maid  of  Edmonton  has  done  well  by 
her.  .  .  . 

"Then,"  the  farmer  continued,  "Joe 
Jacket  wondered  what  he'd  do  next.  He 
wasn't  yet  willing  to  quit  trying  to  get 
around  the  will  of  God.  There  must  be 
something  (thinks  he)  to  make  Elizabeth 
happy  again  ;  and  that  something  must  be 
[86] 


Outwitted 

a  child.  There  wasn't  anything  else  in  the 
world  that  Elizabeth  wanted.  But  what 
child  ? — where  was  the  suitable  child  ?  It 
struck  Joe  that  the  Rev.  Charles  Ellis 
Rangton  might  know ;  and  when  Joe  got 
that  idea  he  was  sure  that  he  was  right. 
The  Rev.  Charles  Ellis  Rangton  had  been 
the  home  missionary  in  those  parts  when 
Amy  was  born;  he  knew  the  family,  he 
knew  the  situation,  he  knew  Elizabeth 
better  than  she  knew  herself,  and  he  was 
the  kindest  and  cleverest  man  Joe  Jacket 
had  ever  known.  He  was  now  in  Toronto 
— had  a  big  Episcopal  church  there — and 
was  doing  a  whole  lot  of  what  they  call 
institutional  work.  So  with  Elizabeth's 
permission  Joe  sat  down  and  wrote — wrote 
everything — all  about  Nellie,  too,  and  why 
Elizabeth  wouldn't  have  her — and  begged 
the  Rev.  Charles  Ellis  Rangton  to  use  his 
own  judgment  and  send  them  as  soon  as 
possible  some  kind  of  a  child  that  he 
thought  would  do. 

"  It  was  two  weeks  and  three  days  be 
fore  he  got  an  answer ;  but  it  was  a  tele- 
[87] 


The    Suitable    Child 

gram,   and   just   the   sort  of  answer  that 
pleased  Joe  Jacket : 

"  '  Have  sent  child  named  Amy.  Arrive 
Flatland  west-bound  express  Friday.  Meet 
her.' 

"  '  There,  Elizabeth  ! '  says  Joe.  '  That's 
businesslike ;  and  I  guess  that  fixes  it.' 

"  '  Named  Amy,'  says  Elizabeth.  '  They 
must  have  given  her  a  new  name.' 

" '  Anyhow,'  says  Joe,  '  it's  a  sort  of 
homelike  thing  to  be  expecting  Amy.' 

"  '  Yes,'  says  Elizabeth ;  '  that's  true.' 

"  '  You  better  get  things  ready,'  says  Joe. 

"  '  I  don't  need  to,'  says  she.  '  I  always 
keep  things  ready — in  Amy's  room.' 

"  'Which  Amy?'  says  Joe,  with  a  laugh. 

"  '  Why,  Joe,'  says  Elizabeth,  '  it  is  nice 
to  be  looking  for  Amy.  That  was  clever 
of  Dr.  Rangton.' 

"  Friday  noon,  when  Joe  set  out  for  Flat- 
land  Station,  Elizabeth  was  in  a  dreadful 
state  again.  It  was  no  use  (says  she) ; 
here  she  was  as  hateful  and  nervous  as 
ever — she  couldn't,  she  just  couldn't,  take 
[88] 


"AND  WHEN  JOE  JACKET  SAW  HER  HE  THANKED  GOD." 


Outwitted 

this  strange  child  to  her  heart.  Joe  left 
her  crying  in  bed  (she  wouldn't  get  up) ; 
and  if  he  hadn't  had  to  get  out  to  Flatland 
Station  to  meet  the  orphan,  he  wouldn't 
have  dared  leave  her  at  all.  It  was  a 
wretched  time,  my  friends,  for  poor  Joe 
Jacket,  while  he  waited  for  the  train  ;  and 
when  the  train  came,  and  went  on  again, 
with  no  child  turning  up  on  the  platform, 
he  was  more  relieved  than  disturbed.  But 
there  was  a  child,  after  all ;  she  was  sitting 
on  her  own  poor  little  bag  in  the  lee  of 
the  station-master's  bay-window — a  queer, 
patient  little  girl,  with  a  canary-like  way 
of  moving  her  head,  and  bird-like  black 
eyes — and  when  Joe  Jacket  saw  her  he 
thanked  God,  and  was  all  at  once  so  filled 
with  joy  and  tenderness  that  he  didn't 
have  time  to  keep  back  the  first  tears. 

"  '  Hello  ! '  says  he.  '  What's  your 
name  ? ' 

"  It  was  said  in  such  a  jolly  and  friendly 
way,  I  suppose,  that  the  little  girl  smiled. 

"  '  I  have  two,'  says  she. 

" '  That's  the  queerest  thing  I  ever 
[89] 


The   Suitable   Child 

heard,'  says  he.  '  Which  one  do  you  like 
best?' 

"  '  I'm  fond  of  the  old  one,'  says  she, 
'  for  I've  been  acquainted  with  it  all  my 
life ;  but  I  hope  that  I  shall  like  the  new 
one  better.' 

"  '  What  is  it  ? '  says  he. 

"'Would  you  like  to  know  the  old,' 
says  she,  '  or  the  new  ? ' 

"  'The  new,'  says  he. 

" '  Amy,'  says  she. 

"  '  It's  the  sweetest  name  I  ever  heard,' 
says  he.  '  I  love  it.  But  tell  me,'  says  he  ; 
'  what  in  the  world  are  you  doing  here  ? ' 

"  '  It's  the  place  I  started  for,'  says  she. 
'  The  name  of  the  gentleman  who  is  to 
meet  me  is  on  my  tag.' 

"  '  "  Mister — Joseph — Jacket," '  says  Joe. 
'  How  would  you  like  me  to  be  Mister — 
Joseph — Jacket  ? ' 

"  '  I  should  like  it  very  much — I  think.' 

"  '  Well,    my   dear,'  says    Joe — and   he 

took  the  little  thing  very  carefully  up  in 

his  arms,  and  hugged  her  with  the  greatest 

care,  and  kissed  her  in  a  way  that  no  child 

[90] 


Outwitted 

could  misunderstand — '  Well,  my  dear/ 
says  he,  '  I  am  Joe  Jacket.' 

"'  I  rather  thought  you  were,'  says  she. 

"  Then  he  drove  her  home  ;  and  he  was 
sure — but  yet  wondered — that  the  suitable 
child  had  been  found.  And  he  wondered, 
too,  whether,  after  all,  he  had  outwitted 
God,  or  God  had  outwitted  him.  It 
seemed  to  him  very  much  like  the  will  of 
God  that  he  should  be  driving  home  with 
that  very  little  girl  in  his  arms. 

"  '  Elizabeth  ! '  Joe  called  from  the  hall. 
'  I've  brought  Amy  home.' 

"  There  wasn't  any  answer. 

"  '  Elizabeth  ! '  he  called  again.  '  Where 
are  you  ? ' 

"  She  wouldn't  answer  ;  but  he  found  her 
in  the  sitting-room,  close  by  the  fire,  which 
had  gone  to  little  flames  and  red  coals. 
It  was  dusk,  then ;  and  there  was  no  lamp 
— only  a  warm  glow  of  light.  Elizabeth 
wouldn't  look  up  ;  she  kept  staring  at  the 
fire,  from  the  rocking-chair,  with  her  chin 
in  her  hands.  Joe  had  time  to  unwrap  the 
[91] 


The   Suitable    Child 

blanket  from  the  child  and  take  her  close 
to  Elizabeth  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  '  She's  a  cripple]  he  whispered,  'just 
like  little  Amy  /  ' 

"Then  Elizabeth  turned — and  caught  the 
hunchback  child  to  her  breast — and  kissed 
her,  and  rocked  her,  and  kissed  her  again 
— and  sobbed:  'I  love  you!  I  love  you!  Oh, 
thank  God — thank  God  you've  come  ! ' ' 

It  was  the  end  of  the  story. 

"  It's  the  sweetest  story  I  ever  heard !  " 
sobbed  the  dear  little  Lady  in  Black.  "  It  is 
a  lesson,"  said  she ;  "  it  is  a  Christmas  lesson." 

"  And  I,"  said  the  Big  Farmer,  with  a 
queer  little  smile,  "  am  Joe  Jacket,  and 
know  that  I  have  told  the  truth  ;  and — / 
love  my  crippled  girl  !  " 

"  Surely,"  mused  the  Lady  in  Black, 
with  her  grave  eyes  looking  into  the  state 
room  where  the  boy  lay  sleeping,  "  God 
has  spoken  to  me  this  night." 

We  were  not  disappointed,  then.     The 
Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twinkling  Eyes* 
fairly  smacked  his  lips  with  satisfaction. 
[92] 


VII 


The  New  Mother 

AME  the  morning ;  came 
Christmas  morning — came 
the  very  morning  of  Christ 
mas,  with  the  train  labour 
ing  forward  towards  Win 
nipeg,  and  the  wind  fallen, 
and  the  snow  gone  from  the  air,  and 
the  dawn  rosy  and  promising.  Came 
the  Old  Gentleman  With  the  Twin 
kling  Eyes  from  his  berth,  with  bleared 
eyes,  which  declared  his  sad  habit  of 
dissipation  in  the  late  hours ;  came 
the  meek  Clergyman,  befuddled  by  the 
wakefulness  of  the  night ;  came  the  Big 
Farmer,  fresh  as  a  wheat  stalk  with  the 
dew  of  morning  on  it ;  came  the  Story 
Teller,  anxiously  inquisitive,  but  blinking  ; 
came  the  little  Lady  in  Black,  with  bright 
eyes,  and  with  smiles,  and  with  a  joyously 
garrulous  and  excitedly  inconsequent  chat 
ter,  and  in  the  most  charming  disarray 
[93] 


The    Suitable    Child 

(which  discomposed  her  not  at  all) ;  and 
— CAME  THE  CHILD  ! 

I  may  say  no  more — I  need  say  no 
more — I  will  not  say  another  word.  It 
is  not  necessary ;  it  would  be  wasteful 
of  words,  it  would  fall  lamentably  short 
of  the  truth  of  delight,  it  would  be  hope 
less,  insufficient,  infinitely  disappointing: 
for  who  can  describe  a  child's  joy  and 
pale  gasping  surprise  of  a  Christmas 
morning  ?  Not  I ;  not  the  poor  Story 
Teller,  who  chanced,  by  God's  favour,  to 
participate  in  this  unmeasured  opportunity. 
Let  it  pass,  and  be  imagined ;  let  it  pass, 
because  such  as  can  imagine  can  imagine, 
but  those  who  cannot,  cannot  be  informed ; 
and  why  attempt  to  convince?  Whoso 
deprives  a  child  of  this  fearful  Christmas 
emotion — but  there  I  go  again :  the  con 
demnation  must  not  be  passed  by  a  bach 
elor  !  Let  me  say  that  our  child  was 
pleased  (a  mild  exposition  of  his  state) ; 
and  I  will  say  no  more. 

Afterwards — this  was  after  breakfast  in 
[94] 


The   New    Mother 

the  dining-car,  and  long  after  the  English 
Church  Clergyman  had  said  his  prayers 
and  absolved  and  blessed  us  all — after 
wards,  the  little  Lady  in  Black  closeted 
herself  with  the  little  Boy  From  the 
Day  Coach.  She  was  resolute,  then — 
she  was  at  once  triumphant  and  defiant 
and  positively  insulting.  She  looked  us 
in  the  eye  in  a  way  that  put  us  in  our 
places.  What  business  was  it  of  ours  ?  she 
seemed  to  say.  None  at  all,  of  course ;  but 
had  she  known  our  fervent  wishes — had 
she  been  aware  of  the  old  gentleman's 
subtle  managing — had  she  been  informed  of 
my  poor  wish — she  would  have  done  noth 
ing  of  the  sort ;  she  would  have  sought  for 
sympathetic  help,  she  would  not  have  ex 
pected  the  mean,  conventional  blame  of  the 
world,  which  we  chanced  to  appear  to  rep 
resent  before  her  (but  did  not  really). 

Afterwards,  I  say,  the  boy  and  the  lady 
went  into  the  stateroom ;  and  the  little 
Lady  in  Black  tightly  closed  the  door. 

"  Listen ! "  said  she,  when  they  reap 
peared. 

[95] 


The   Suitable    Child 

The  little  boy,  who  held  the  little  hand 
of  the  little  Lady  in  Black,  advanced  before 
her ;  and  he  spread  his  fat  legs,  and  estab 
lished  himself  firmly,  notwithstanding  the 
stagger  of  the  train,  and  he  scowled,  and 
he  seemed  (I  recall)  perfectly  willing  to 
fight,  and  to  down  us  heartily,  as  he 
squared  his  shoulders,  and  defiantly  faced 
us. 

And  he  said : 

' '  This — here  —  wom-an — ' s — my — m oth 
er!" 

We  congratulated  the  happy  pair. 

"  I  am  very  happy,"  said  the  little  Lady 
in  Black,  with  the  sweetest  Christmas  smile 
in  all  the  world. 

The  boy  grinned  without  the  aid  of  the 
forceps  of  the  Old  Gentleman  With  the 
Twinkling  Eyes. 


[96] 


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